Deja Vu
by Sanqhian
Summary: Deja vu, the sense of overwhelming familairity. What is it with this new case? Why can't they shake this feeling of deja vu? And will they learn to love each other?
1. Kryptonite

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter One: Kryptonite**

"What did you do with the body, Mathew?" Booth demanded of the youth sitting at the scarred table before him. His eyes burned with a desire to get justice for the victim in a horrifying case.

The young kid just stared back at him, as though he were deaf to every word that came out of the FBI agent's mouth. The nose-ring caught the light and sparkled, as did the two earrings in his ears. His close-cut hair had been dyed a shade of deep blue and his fingernails were painted black, matching the color of his clothing. Instead of answering the question at hand he let his eyes wander around the interrogation room. Three bare walls and one with a two-way mirror, nothing much for him to look at. Finally he decided to stare into the mirror, to see if he could see those standing on the other side.

Booth slammed a hand down on the table, making the punk jump with the sudden noise. "I asked you a question, Mathew. If you don't tell me where the body is I'll pull for the death penalty. Would you like that?"

The punk's brown eyes didn't show any sign of emotion. Booth's threat wasn't doing its job. The accused could care less about the hell he found himself locked in, thinking more about music or something else. This indifference to the situation did nothing but drive the anger that was already coursing full-throttle through Booth. He threw the folder of the case across the room, papers scattering and fluttering to the floor like many white leaves.

This case had been eating away at him for the last few months. Everyone could clearly see it and no one blamed him. The death of a young kid is always hard to handle, especially when that young kid is murdered and the only suspect is their older brother. Michael was only five-years-old, just a baby in the eyes of his parents. He'd been left in the care of Mathew, his older brother, one night while the parents were away at a business function. They returned home to find their baby boy dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. Mathew was nowhere to be found, until a week later, when Booth picked him up. The older boy had been driving around in a beat-up car and upon searching it for drugs and other illegal things they found a skeleton in the trunk. The skeleton of a boy not much older than Michael had been.

That's when Temperance Brennan and her people made their entrance into the case. They had only to identify the body to drive the case farther down into a black hole, sending Booth even farther spiraling down. The skeleton had belonged to a six-year-old boy who had a twin brother; both boys had gone missing from their yard months before. All trace of them disappeared, every lead led to another dead end. Finding that skeleton had been the only break to come in months. And what a terrible break it had been. Now Booth spent his hours trying to crack the punk and learn the whereabouts of the other still unaccounted for twin.

"Tell me where you hid the body," Booth demanded again, his voice was low but full of menacing tones. Walking around the room, waiting for the punk to say anything, just one word even, Booth began to pick-up the scattered paperwork of the thrown folder. A nasty grin crossed his face as he plucked a picture from the floor. With flourish he slapped it down in front of the quiet teenager.

"That's what you did to your little brother. Your own damn flesh and blood," yelled Booth. He placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. "What could a five-year-old boy do to piss you off, huh? Tell me, Mathew."

No tears fell from the teenager's eyes as he took in the gruesome picture of his baby brother. No emotion passed over his face at all. It made Temperance sick to her stomach, to see such a cold and heartless personality in a child. What had been done to him to make him react this way to death? Why had he shut off all emotion to the world, blanketing him in the world of darkness? With tentative hands she watched as the teenager picked the picture up, with a flick of his wrist he sent it sailing across the room.

Frustrated Booth turned his back on the kid, running a hand through his hair. His boss had given him full control of the case and he wanted to make things right. He wanted to give two families the peace of mind they needed, the answers they deserved to have. But if Mathew wouldn't say a word there was nothing he could do. There would be no understanding why a teenager felt like killing young children. The courts wouldn't care, neither would the juries. They condemn the teenager to the electric chair and at this point Booth no longer cared. He had a son of his own. He knew what it was like to love that little being with every part of his heart. What had gone wrong in this teenager?

"You know what," Booth said, running a hand over his mouth in defeat. "I give up, don't tell me the information I want. Keep the information to yourself. You'll be taking it to your grave. I overheard my boss talking with the court, seems they've decided that only though your merely sixteen you will be tried as an adult for your crimes. Enjoy your trip to hell."

Booth left the room, making sure to slam the door on his way out. It angered him that he couldn't break the cold front the teenager projected. It angered him even more that he'd lost his cool. Temperance stepped out of the room that allowed her to see the interrogation. Technically she shouldn't have even been there, her part in the case was over, done with. But she had asked a favor of Booth and he couldn't deny her. She laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him a sense of comfort.

"You did your best, Booth, you can't ask for more than that," she said in her matter-of-fact voice. As a scientist she very rarely let her emotions seep out, something Booth never could get a handle on.

"I wanted answer, Brennan. Silence is not a damned answer," he snapped, pulling away from her. He took off down the hallway, his frustration finally hitting the boiling point. Being stubborn herself, Temperance took off after him. She didn't think leaving him alone would be a good idea, not when he felt so defeated.

She caught up with him outside the FBI building. He was leaning against the white structure; his eyes watching the traffic of the city go by. Impulsively she sat on the steps next to him. Usually he loved being in the company of the young scientist and she knew that. She knew that he liked her, that she gave him some sort of relief even when she was driving him crazy with all her questions. Temperance didn't understand people, she understood bones. Much to her dismay and disbelief Booth did not join her on the step; he remained standing, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. She could feel the anger and frustration ebbing from his body. This case was going to haunt him for a long time.

"Do you want to go out and get a drink?" she asked him after letting the silence between them stretch. The city buzzed around them, ignoring their very existence. "It might help take your mind off things, or at least make you feel better. I understand that alcohol is very good at that."

"No thank you, Brennan," he replied in a hushed voice still filled with discouraging sorrow. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while." With that he began to make his way to the busy sidewalk. For a man who wanted to alone he picked a poor place to do it. How could he be alone on the crowded city sidewalks? Feeling discouraged herself; Temperance picked herself up and headed back inside the building. She wanted to talk with Booth's boss before heading back the comforting confines of her lab. It was only then that she realized Booth had not called her Bones even once. The nickname bothered her to a degree, and yet, it gave her a feeling that someone out there cared a whole hell of a lot for her. Now that someone was lost in his thoughts and she couldn't help but worry about his safety.


	2. Loser

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Two: Loser**

Temperance Brennan walked into the lab of the Jeffersonian. This was her domain, her place of comfort. Given half the chance she'd lived here, surrounded by machines and unidentified remains. She thrived in finding the answers to the puzzles that others left behind when crimes were committed. It put her mind at ease to know she'd given a family closure while she still sought to find her own. This was her home and the one place she spent most of her time.

The other scientists, or squints as Booth preferred to call them, had become her family. Angela Montenegro, the artist that gave faces to those who couldn't speak for themselves, was not only her friend but also her sister. Zack Addy and Jack Hodgins were caring and even annoying at times, like brothers. Even Daniel Goodman, her boss, fit into the family. She still couldn't find a perfect place to fit Seeley Booth. Would he always be a friend or would she give in to his flirting and they'd become lovers?

She grabbed a folder from her atop her desk and perched on the corner of the cluttered messy desktop. Flipping open the cover she began to read over the facts of a new case, a new body and new mystery. Little was known about the skeleton. It had been found in a dumpster by a homeless man when he was looking for lost treasure, as he put it. Most of the bones in the legs and arms were missing, as were a few of the ribs and vertebras. Though important clues were held by those bones they'd still have enough to identify race and sex.

"I'm sorry to hear about that case," Angela said, walking into the office and giving Brennan a scare.

She looked up into the eyes of the beautiful artist. Her Asian heritage added to her beauty and allure. If Brennan had thought looks were more important than personality she'd have been jealous of her friend. "I think Booth took it harder than I did. He didn't even call me Bones that whole day."

"You usually don't like it when he calls you that," Angela responded with a knowing smile.

Brennan closed the file. "That's true, but it's human nature, Angela. If someone gets into the habit of calling you by a name, even though you request they not, it does become a little worrisome when they stop doing it. It's a slight personality change."

"Maybe you should talk to him. He was probably thinking about his own son when he thought of those little boys," reasoned the forensic artist.

Sighing in defeat Brennan agreed with her friend. Sometimes life was beyond her. She didn't always understand the pop references that Booth threw her way but she did understand people. It was her job. "Have you seen him yet today?"

Angela shook her head. "Nope, haven't seen even a glimpse of those dark FBI eyes. Why don't you go to his office? Zack and Hodgins are stilly going over the specifics of our new skeleton. If Dr. Goodman shows up I'll just tell him you were looking into something else."

"I don't know, Angela. I have a job to do and I really should do it. Booth will show up eventually. Doesn't he always?"

The conversation ended there as Brennan breezed out the door, leaving Angela confused. If someone like Seeley Booth was hitting on her all the time she'd be downright giddy, like a school girl. But since the murder of her boyfriend in the desert she'd been guarding her heart. Maybe spending too much time with Brennan was taking a toll on her. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear the unnecessary thoughts she took off after her boss.

PP

All day Brennan had occupied herself by working over the bones in her new case. This time the body belonged to a young African-American woman, roughly the age of twenty. Booth never once stopped by the lab and by the end of her work day she could no longer hide her worry for him. The last time they'd been together he had seemed lost, almost as though he'd lost faith in the world. One by one her colleagues bid her a goodnight until she was the only one left in the lab, aside from the bodies.

Looking at her watch she decided to call it quits for the night and run over to Booth's apartment. She'd never really been inside his place but knew where it was because Booth had told her. Shutting off the light in her office and locking the door she took off into the night to locate her lost friend. After losing her parents as such a young age she couldn't help but grow attached to people. Even if they did have a tendency to drive her nuts, like Booth.

As usual the radio remained off in her car. Most of the music she heard nowadays made no sense to her. She didn't understand why people would want to listen to others sing about death and rape and shootings. Maybe if they lived their life the way she did they'd realize that those songs were written in poor taste. Not that love songs were all the rage either. Brennan didn't believe in love.

Booth's car was parked outside the apartment building where he lived. This gave Brennan a renewed sense of hope, though she didn't know why. Just because his car was there didn't mean he was okay. She barely remembered climbing up the stairs to reach his apartment or raising her hand to rap her knuckles on the wooden door.

"Go away," came a grumbled response.

"It's Temperance," she responded, wondering momentarily if she should have added her last name. How many Temperance's could Booth know?

The door swung open. Booth gave her a look before turning around and walking farther into his apartment where he proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch. Feeling just a tad uncomfortable she entered the foreign place, closing the door behind her. Everything about the apartment screamed Booth. It was just like she imagined it to be, even the toys sitting on the living room carpet that belonged to his son. She put her purse on the table and her jacket over the back of a chair.

"You didn't go to work today?" she asked the obvious question.

He threw her a look. "What do you want, Brennan?"

"I wanted to make sure that you were okay. That's what friends do," she snapped in annoyance. How could this man always rub her the wrong way?

"No one asked you to check-up on me."

She walked around the couch, turning off the TV and standing in front of him. His white shirt was partially unbuttoned and not tucked into this black dress pants. He looked as though he'd gotten up with the intent to go to work that day but changed his mind and not his clothes. There were dark circles under his eyes; he hadn't slept well the night before. She felt sympathetic toward him.

"Booth, you can't let this case get to you. Yes, it's sad when a child is harmed the way those little boys were; even worse so when the one harming them is young too. But if you let this case get to you than you let the bad guys win. Can you live with that?" she asked him.

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" Booth nearly whispered in response.

She took a seat on the couch beside him. "Who knows? I know it's hard but you need to move on, Booth. There are other victims out there, waiting for the attention of a really good detective. Will you deny them the closure they need and the justice they deserve?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes somewhat cloudy from the lack of sleep and possibly from the added affect of alcohol. There was an empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Even now she felt a little tug deep inside that she didn't quite understand. He stood from the couch after a moment and threw the empty beer bottle into a recycling bin.

"I'm going to bed," he announced.

Brennan followed him into the kitchen. "Promise me that you'll go to work tomorrow, Booth. I don't want to spend another day worrying about you. Promise me."

No matter how long she lay awake that night she would never quite understand what happened next. Booth turned to her, a blank look on his face, a fire burning in his eyes. He grasped her by her shoulders and leaned in close. She felt the brush of his lips against hers in a complete surprise. As quickly as the contact had been established it had been erased. He turned his back on her, making his way toward his bedroom.

"Goodnight, Bones," he said as he disappeared into the dark hallway.


	3. Duck and Run

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Three: Duck and Run**

Bullets whizzed through the air, little metal projectiles intended to do harm to whatever unlucky soul they hit. Brennan hid behind the hulking mass of the FBI vehicle. Lucky for her it was an SUV and there was a lot of space to hide. She kept herself curled up near the back half of the huge vehicle, pressing her back against the metal body and the rubber tire, keeping her head low. Another bullet whizzed past, ricocheting off the ground just a few feet away. How had this all gone so wrong? She heard glass shatter as one of the many bullets hit the passenger side window. It flew through the car and out the driver's side window, showering the ground with glittering glass.

Chancing a look around she tried to spot Booth. He'd told her to stay in the car; that she had to leave everything up to him. She was supposed to be safe outside in the car. Safety was the last thing on her mind now. Even with all the bullets flying around she found herself more concerned with the whereabouts of a certain FBI agent. Another bullet hit the car, sliding along the length of the bumper. They knew she was hiding there. They knew she was unarmed, so why did they insist on firing at her? No one shot back in retaliation. None of it made sense to her scientist mind.

Where had Booth disappeared to? He'd gone inside the house, the home of the boyfriend to the body Brennan's team had been working on. They'd only figured out the identity of the body thanks to the technology of Angela's computer software and ability to give faces to those who no longer had them. Had Brennan known that the boyfriend hid out in a bunker with thugs equipped with guns she would have stayed at the lab, instead of insisting on accompanying Booth.

She only did it because she was concerned about him, like she was now. He'd only been in the house a minute before all hell broke loose. She'd been forced to evacuate the vehicle through the driver's side door and take cover. She could have sworn that she heard gunfire come from inside the house. But if Booth had taken out the boyfriend why wasn't he outside helping her? He knew that she was incapable of defending herself against gun welding maniacs. It was his fault, in fact. He wouldn't let her carry a gun. He claimed it had something to do with his own safety and the safety of innocent people.

In the distance the sound of sirens cried out to the city. They drew nearer in a fast pace, all heading in one direction. Someone had heard the shots and called the cops. At least someone in the deteriorating neighborhood had common sense. Shouts rang up as the shooters realized that the cops were headed in their direction. Panic broke out amongst them. She heard a few of them dropping guns and heard their sneakers pound on the pavement as they ran off.

What she had not expected was for one of them to come up to her. He rounded the front of the SUV with a semi-automatic pointed right at her. For a moment her heart stopped. She thought he was going to shoot her. This was going to be her end, and this wasn't the way she thought she'd die.

"Get up," the muscular man barked. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, wondering for the umpteenth time where Booth had gotten off to. "You'll be coming with me, lovely lady." The man smiled, showing her teeth in need of serious dental work.

"I-"

"You don't get to speak," he bellowed, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist. She couldn't but wonder if this man had been the boyfriend to the deceased woman. They had proof that the boyfriend killed her. Unfortunately, Booth had never shown her a picture of the killer. He didn't find it important at the time.

The man dragged her around the front of the car. She did her best to keep up with him and not to trip on the unevenly cracked pavement. The sirens drew ever closer as the first cop car turned onto the now desolate street. A waiting car looked to be Brennan's future. The cops wouldn't be fast enough to help her now. A shot rang out, shattering the silence that had fallen over the place. The big man lost his grip on Brennan as he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Blood pooled from a little hole in his head. She turned to the shooter.

Booth gave her a shaky smile. "Sorry about that. I thought you'd be safe in the car."

Blood seeped from a wound on his forehead. Some of the red liquid had actually run down over his left eye, giving him the appearance of an extra in a horror movie. "Are you okay?" she asked him. It was all she could think to say, all the anger having left her body.

"Damn guy pistol-whipped me," Booth explained. "He got away, went out the backdoor. My boss is going to be pissed."

Brennan gave him a shaky smile. "Why would he be mad? You didn't know that a shoot-out was going to be the result of our snooping. Though something tells me I should have known."

"It's not that. He'll be mad that I brought you along and nearly got you killed," grumbled Booth, holstering his gun.

An unmarked black car with a flashing red light on the dashboard joined them, two marked police cars behind them. A man in a business suit climbed out of the black car. He approached Booth, an air of importance hanging around him. Without asking Booth handed over his gun. The older man looked from Booth to Brennan.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he scowled. "The boss is going to love hearing about this. You just keep screwing up, don't you Seeley? You used to be a good agent. What went wrong?"

"I think I'm going to take Dr. Brennan back to her lab," Booth sidestepped the issue with ease.

"Bring your happy ass back here when you're done. I'm going to need a report from you," the other agent ordered.

Quickly ushering Brennan into the car Booth opened the driver's door. He brushed a few stray fragments of glass off the seat before climbing behind the wheel. Brennan did the same. She let Booth drive for a few minutes in peace with the hopes that his anger would disappear. However, as always, she had a need to say something, anything. She was a scientist and it was her job to ask questions. Something she proved to be good at.

"Why did you say that you used to be a good agent?"

He gave her a quick look before returning his eyes to the road. "Agent Stone seems to think that I've lost my edge. He believes that I spend too much time with you squints and it's affecting my job. Like the last case that I had, I should have gotten that kid to talk. Now this is going to make me look bad too."

Brennan frowned. "Hanging out with a scientist is a bad thing? Last time I checked we did more in solving a case than you guys. We get you answers to why someone died and how, what would you guys do without us? Take wild guesses?"

Booth pulled up in front of the lab and put the car in park. "Look, Bones, not every agent, or cop for that matter, is willing to believe that they need scientists to help them with their jobs. I understand this. Agent Stone is an ass and an old fossil. Don't expect him to change his mind any time soon."

She looked down at her hands, clasped firmly in her lap. "You're in trouble because of me. I pushed you to take me with you and look what happened. I put myself in the line of fire."

"True, but they won't hear it. I should have said no," Booth remarked.

"I'll talk with Dr. Goodman," stated Brennan, sounding like she was thinking out loud. "If that doesn't work then I'll talk with your boss. You aren't going to get in trouble because of me."

Booth smiled. "Actually, I will get in trouble unless you get back into that lab so I can return to the scene. Nothing is going to stop Agent Stone from telling my boss that I skipped out on him. He's a bit of a nark."

Brennan smiled back and bid Booth goodbye. She had been happy to see him at work earlier that morning. He had seemed so lost last night, until he called her Bones. As long as he called her that she knew that things were okay. Even if the nickname did get on her nerves. Sometimes familiarity is what a person needs. Stepping into the lab she breathed in the familiar smells and felt herself relax all over. The realization of how close she came to dying wouldn't hit until later.


	4. Not Enough

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Note: Please check my profile!**

**Chapter Four: Not Enough**

She sat at her desk, staring at the monitor of her computer but she didn't really see it. Her eyes focused on nothing while her mind raced like a horse in the Kentucky Derby. She heard the gunfire and felt the heat from the bullets as they whizzed by her, little laughing projectiles. She saw the gun in the gun of the man who tried to take her. She smelled his cologne and the sweat that drenched his body. Then all she saw was red as Booth stood before her, blood coloring his skin. A panic seized her, making it hard to breathe. Until now she hadn't realized just how close she'd come to dying. What would that man have done to her had Booth not shot him in the head? No, she'd rather not know. In her line of work she'd seen many gruesome things. The last thing she needed to think about was her friends trying to identify her body by her bones.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and she just about jumped right out of her skin. "Hey, Tempy, it's just me. Relax."

Her eyes fell upon Angela's. "I'm sorry, Angela. My mind was somewhere else."

"I kind of got that from the dreamy look in your eyes, what were you thinking of?" she asked with a curious smile.

Brennan pushed away from her desk to stand up. "Not what you think. I wasn't thinking about him. Who has the time?"

"You were thinking about the shootout, weren't you?" Angela stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Don't dwell on it; it's not worth the time. You'll just keep seeing miserable things. Clear your head. We have a new case, which should make you happy. New bones. New mystery."

In reality the last thing Brennan wanted right now was another case to work on. More bones to focus her attention on. Her mind was already going in different directions. How was she supposed to do her job when she couldn't even focus on the here and now? Hell, she couldn't even remember why she'd come to her office.

Angela gave her a gentle shake. "Earth to Temperance. There's work to be done. We don't need to have Dr. Goodman breathing down our necks because we're slacking off. Plus, to tell you the truth, I don't think the boys can keep him occupied long enough until the get back."

"He kissed me," was all that Brennan could think to say.

"Dr. Goodman kissed you?" Angela asked, frowning. "He's married."

"No, Booth kissed me. I think."

The smile on Angela's face would have lit up the space station it was so bright. "He finally kissed you? Tell me about it. I want to hear all the details."

"What details?"

Angela shook her head. Sometimes Temperance could be so clueless about life. She knew everything there was to know about skeletons but couldn't even explain a kiss to her friend. "Oh, like when did it happen? How was it? Was it on the lips and did you see sparks? Is it possible that there are wedding bells in your future?"

Now it was Brennan's turn to frown. "I'm not going to marry him just because he kissed me, Angela. He did it the other night when I went to check on him. You know, after the case about the little boys?" Angela nodded. She didn't want to interrupt by saying anything. If she did there was a chance she'd never get the whole story. "He was drunk. He probably doesn't even remember kissing me. But when he was on his way to bed he brushed his lips against mine. It wasn't even a real kiss."

"Yes it was," Angela beamed. "There was lip contact, which makes it a kiss. Seeley Booth kissed you. Drunk or not it still counts. The guy has the hots for you, haven't you noticed it? The way he always wants your opinion on cases? The way he always comes running to you?"

Brennan left her office, walking toward the examining tables. "He does not have the 'hots' for me. It's a business relationship. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So, you're telling me that the kiss meant nothing to you? Nothing at all?" questioned Angela as she tagged along.

Stopping, Brennan turned to look at her. "To be honest, Angela, it meant everything to me. It may have just been a gentle touching of lips but it made my heart sing. No other kiss has ever done that to me. It wasn't enough, and yet, it was more than I could ever imagine."

"You sound like a school girl who's fallen for Mr. Right," Angela responded. "Does it seem like Booth remembers kissing you?"

They resumed walking. "No, not that I've noticed. He's been acting normal. In fact, he's acting like it never happened."

"Maybe he's embarrassed. Perhaps he thinks that you forgot and he doesn't want to piss you off by remind you. Booth is a weird man, Tempy, you must remember that. All FBI guys are a bit high strung. I think it comes with the badge," Angela explained.

"Why are you two talking about Booth? What did he do this time?" Zack inquired as they joined him by the skeleton, which lay on an examining table. The young kid was a genius, graduating early and proving himself over and over again under Temperance's guide. She was going to find it hard to let him go when the time came. Unless of course she was able to convince Dr. Goodman to let him stay.

"Nothing, Zack. He hasn't done anything. Tell me what we know about this skeleton," Brennan replied, getting down to the business at hand.

"I heard that he almost got you killed in a shootout," Hodgins joined the conversation.

Brennan threw a glare in his direction. "We're here to work, not gossip. The bones, Zack."

The group of scientists began to do what they did best, finding answers in a pile of bones. They were able to determine that the skeleton belonged to a woman in her late twenties, early thirties. She stood five-foot-nine. There were scraps along the bones and indentations, made from whatever weapon the killer had used most likely. Brennan knew that before too long Booth would be gracing them all with his presence. The problem being, she didn't know how she truly felt about that.


	5. Be Like That

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Five: Be Like That**

The day ended better than it had begun, which wasn't really saying much. Brennan had gotten over the shooting yesterday, waking to nightmares like a little kid crying out for their mother. Only she had no one to cry out to, no one to comfort her when her thoughts plagued her. Instead, she'd found herself unable to fall back asleep. So she spent the night going over the old files that had been long forgotten by everybody but her. Files that should have been in a cabinet at the lab and if Dr. Goodman found them missing she'd be in a world of hurt. But sometimes cold cases were solved with the tiniest trace of evidence.

She flipped through reports of missing people after that, accessing the database on her home computer. Someone had to match the description of the missing woman they'd come across yesterday. Someone had to be missing her. Brennan thought about it, who would miss her if she was gone? Of course, Angela would, and so would Zack; both of them looked up to her. Hodgins would probably miss her too, but she couldn't be so sure about that. He was a hard person to read at times. And then Booth's image crossed her mind and she shut off the computer, tired of thinking.

The night quickly faded into day and she found herself at the lab before everyone else; which wasn't completely unusual. The others laughed about how she practically lived in the lab, working from the wee hours of the morning into the late hours of the night. But when there's no one waiting at home, why bother spending time there? She liked devoting her life to answering the questions that haunted others in their sleep. She enjoyed knowing that she'd helped in giving a family peace of mind, even if it meant telling them someone they loved was indeed dead. It was all part of the job.

Grabbing a cup of coffee from the break room she made her way to her office, the desk still cluttered with information on various cases. A new file sat atop the others. Flipping it open she found the description of a body dug up at an excavation sight, someone wanted her to identify and authenticate the age of the bones. Something else she enjoyed doing. A lot could be learned from history, if only people took the time to study it.

A sheet of paper slide from her desk and in a move to stop it she accidentally spilled her cup of coffee. The nearly black liquid spread across her desk like a flood over a tiny town. Papers in files turned brown on the edges, the manila folders turning darker in color, and everything was soaked. Picking up one file caused the tender folder to tear, spilling its contents all over the floor. She cursed, trying to figure out if working with bad luck was such a good idea. Maybe it would go away before the lunch period. Bending down, she scooped up the dropped papers and straightened up, bumping her head on the edge of her desk. Scratch that thought about the bad luck going away.

Eventually the others managed to find their way into the lab. They talked amongst each other, laughing about their night out, drinking and dancing. Brennan never joined them, she never thought of herself as the dancing and drinking kind. Then again, she had never thought Booth would kiss her. Sure, all the signs were there that he liked her but a lot of guys hit on her. They thought she was hot, until they heard her talk. None of them could get passed her job. Either they were turned off by it or they were so curious that it was unsettling. It would be nice to have someone to talk about work with and know they had no abjections to it or a crazy fascination in it.

At first, going over the bones again had been good. It appeared as though her bad luck had taken a vacation. Until she dropped one of the ribs, causing it to crack when it hit the floor. Thankfully no one said anything to her about it, but that didn't mean anything. She saw the way they looked at each other, like they were trying desperately to hide a secret. Could Angela have told the two guys about Booth kissing her?

Convinced that being around the bones was a bad idea, she came up with a quick idea. Today would be an excellent teaching day. The others would do all the important work while she played at being a supervisor. This way they could learn the ins and outs of their jobs without her guiding them along. Like shoving the proverbial baby birds from the nest. For two hours things flowed along. She didn't have any accidents and the others seemed to be enjoying the day. Thought Hodgins kept bickering with Zack about certain aspects. Most of the time he ended up losing the argument. Zack was a smart kid. Someday he'd probably surpass even the knowledge that Brennan held. And she would let him, standing by with a smile while he took his turn in the spotlight.

Unfortunately for her, her luck was about to go sour again. Booth showed up around the lunch hour. He grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her off to her office. There he started asking her questions about the body. What did they know about it? Had Angela used her artistic ability to give the body a face yet? Brennan answered as truthfully as she could. It would have been clear to a blind man that Booth wasn't satisfied with their findings.

Not able to contain her thoughts any longer she blurted out, "Why did you kiss me the other night?"

This shut Booth up, taking him by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"The other night, when I stopped by your apartment to check-up on you," she explained. She could feel her cheeks heating with a blush, something that hadn't happened in so long. "You kissed me before you went to bed. Why?"

Booth raised an eyebrow at her. "I kissed you? Are you sure about that?"

Frustration and embarrassment mixed inside her like she was a giant pot. Either he truly didn't remember kissing her or he was denying it on purpose. Either way, it made her look like a fool and she was none too happy about it. "Never mind, forget I even brought it up."

At that moment there was a knock on her office door. Hodgins poked his head in, a worried expression on his face. "I don't mean to interrupt this private meeting but you guess need to come see this. Angela gave a face to the skeleton and…well…you'll just have to see for yourselves."

Curious they followed after him as he led the way. Brennan was eager to see a face, maybe one of the young women she'd looked up last night was the one on her table. It would be a quick solving and Booth could just get lost. He could take off; doing his part of the job, informing the family about their lost loved one. That was something she would never, and could never, get herself to do. Imagine telling a mother that her son had passed away or that someone murdered her only daughter, just thinking about the strength one needed to do that gave her more respect for Booth. Even if at the moment he was being somewhat of an ass.

They found Zack and Angela staring at the 3D-computer-rendered picture of a lovely woman. Brennan's heart stopped as she realized, looking into the blue eyes of a woman with long brown hair, that she could very well have been looking into a mirror.

"They say that everyone on this planet has a doppelganger, I never believed that until now," Hodgins remarked, staring at the face.

"Honey, if you weren't standing right beside me I'd be convinced that we had your skeleton on that table," Angela told her. Brennan found that she was speechless. What does one say at a time like this? Was there anything that could be said?


	6. Life of My Own

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Six: Life of my Own**

Temperance sat outside on one of the stone steps, the sun beating down on her. The cooling of autumn could be felt in the air and it created goose-bumps on the exposed skin of her arms. Why was it that she felt as though someone had taken her life from her? So what if that person looked like her, it wasn't her and they probably didn't even have anything in common. Still, it was like having her identity stolen. A cloud swept over the sun creating a shadow over the Jeffersonian. The others were still inside, digging deeper into the mystery of the missing woman. Trying to find a name, a meaning to the death.

Booth sat down beside her. She was instantly reminded of the day with the punk, the day that Booth had left her behind for the busy city sidewalks. Now he sought her out, like she had sought him out that day. Their roles were reversed but this time no one was going to be walking off. It wasn't her style. Her eyes settled on a spider, sitting on the step, waiting for the warmth of the sun to return.

"We figured out her name," Booth said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Do you want to know it?"

She gave it a moment of thought before answering him. "Of course, she's just like all the other skeletons that have the misfortune of gracing my table. She deserves to have peace."

He pulled out a little notebook from a pocket of his suit jacket. "Her name is Temira Brend."

"You're kidding me, right?" She asked, looking at him, looking for any sign that he was pulling her leg. "That can't be her name. It's not creepy enough that she looks like me but her initials have to be the same, too?"

"It is creepy," agreed Booth. "But it's only going to get worse from this point."

She scowled. "What else did you learn about her?"

He flipped a page. "She works as a biologist. The two of you are the same age, her birthday coming a month after yours. Her parents were killed in a car accident and her older brother pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth."

She tore the notebook from his gasp wanting to see for herself. Everything that he had told her was written on the pages in her hands. Her bad luck just kept dealing out the worst hands. It scared her to think that this woman, this Temira Brend, had been living a life similar to her own. Had she ever actually watched any horror movies she probably would have thought she was in one. How could this be happening? What would they find at her house? What would her friends be like?

"When are you going to her place?" she asked Booth, not looking in his direction.

"Oh, no," he said as he got to his feet. "You are not going along on this, not after last time. My boss chewed my ear out for having you there."

"I was there of my own free-will, Booth," she remarked, standing up. "There is no way you can expect me to just sit by on this one. I have to go. I have to see…"

"To see if her place is anything like yours?" he finished for her. "Look, I admit that this whole thing is a little out in the Twilight Zone but I'm not going to get in trouble. You are staying here."

With that said he took off down the steps toward his waiting car. She bit her lip in frustration and anger. How could he does this to her? It was in her nature to be a curious person. If she didn't get to tag along it was going to kill her. There was only one thing she could think of that would guarantee her a trip to this Temira Brend's apartment.

"Booth," she yelled after him, making her way down the stairs. "Wait."

He turned to look back at her, his hand on the handle of the driver's door. "What now?"

She couldn't believe that she was about to do this but felt that it was the only way. She looked him right in the eye. "If you take me along to her apartment we can have dinner together."

"Like a date?"

"Yes," she swallowed. This had to be done. She had to see the inside of Temira's place. "Like a date."

He looked at her through slit eyes, trying to figure out if she was pulling his chain. He knew that her curiosity had gotten the better of her and that she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she saw the apartment. He didn't really want her to see it for fear that she'd go over the edge if she found more similarities. His boss would be pissed if he took her along with him. He'd been strictly forbidden to take her. But a date with Brennan?

"Fine, but you had better keep your word or I won't do anymore favors for you," he told her.

"We can make arrangements later. Let's get going," she said as she climbed in on the other side.

Driving down busy city roads toward Brend's apartment neither one of them spoke. Booth was thinking about the potential date. This wasn't how he wanted to get a date with her but a date was a date. She hadn't been returning his advances. Not to mention, he felt like an ass for hurting her by denying any memory of the kiss he gave her. Maybe when they finished with the day he'd let her know that she didn't have to follow through with the date-deal. He'd be a gentleman. Even though it would hurt.

She could only think of one thing, the skeleton and the woman that shared her life. The date with Booth was in the back of her mind, waiting for its chance to spring up on her and make her panic. She didn't know anything about going on a date. It had been so long since her last one. Angela would probably throw her a party or squeal with happiness. Either way, Brennan didn't think she'd be comfortable telling her, or anyone else for that matter.

The apartment building that Temira Brend lived in looked like every other apartment building; too many floors, too many windows, and a dirty brick exterior. Why had she stayed in the city, she wondered. Temira's place was on the third floor. Booth went in first, his gun ready incase any of the shadows decided to attack them. The furniture was simple and the coffee table was covered in science magazines, just like her own. There were pictures of Temira's family scattered around the places mimicking Brennan's own pictures back home.

She had always thought that her life was her own. Now the world laughed in her face showing her that she'd been terribly wrong. Wondering around the apartment she came across a picture on the TV stand that sent a chill down her spine. Temira Brend stood in front of a lab with four other people; a black female, an Asian male, a female with curly hair, and a younger looking female. They reminded Brennan of her own co-workers. Why did she feel like she was looking into a mirror?

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" someone behind her demanded. Brennan whirled around to see who it was. She dropped the picture, breaking the glass and cracking the frame.


	7. Better Life

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Seven: Better Life**

He came down the hallway to see what had made Brennan call him. He stopped dead in his tracks, gun raised, when he saw the back of a man. The new body in the apartment was staring down Brennan. This new person was taller than her, built about the same as Booth and the way he stood there made it hard to read his intentions.

"Don't touch her, step away from her," Booth said in a calm but assertive voice. He kept his gun pointed at the intruder, ready, incase he had to use it. The other person obeyed him, taking two steps back away from Brennan. When he moved Booth got a clear look at Brennan's face and it looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide and the color had drained from her face. "Turn around."

Slowly, arms raised in surrender, the other man turned to face Booth, and he felt like someone socked him in the stomach. The man before him had to be the same height, six-foot-one, with that was either dark brown or black and his eyes were the color of chocolate. He could have been Booth had he not been wearing jeans, a T-shirt advertising the band 3 Doors Down, and sneakers. The three piercings in his ear were also something Booth wouldn't even dare.

After getting over the initial shock Booth was able to ask, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the man replied. "This is my friend's apartment and I'm going to call the cops. You two are trespassing."

Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID, he flashed the FBI badge. "Right now we have more right to be here than you do. So answer my questions. Who are you and why are you here?"

The man scowled. "I told you, this is my friend's apartment. I came here to feed her fish," he said, pointing to a fish tank neither Booth nor Brennan had seen at first. "I've been stopping by every other day or so to water her plants and take care of her fish. It's the least I can do."

'What do you mean?" Brennan interrupted. She'd walked around the guy to stand beside Booth. It wasn't that she was scared, she wasn't, but hiding behind the man with the gun always seemed like the logical thing to do; especially after nearly dying just a few days ago.

"My friend disappeared about a month ago. Her name was Temira Brend," the man replied. "I wanted to keep her place the way she left it, in case she came home. She loved her plants and her fish."

Brennan looked around the combination kitchen, living room, and dining room. "I don't see any plants."

"There in the bedroom," Booth said. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Seth Boone," the man replied. "Why are you here? Did you find Temira?" The idea must have just hit him as his eyes lit up and he seemed to be slightly hopeful. "Is she okay? Where is she?"

"What's your relation to Miss Brend?" Booth asked, ignoring Seth's questions. "How long have you two known each other? Were you just friends, like you claim, or was there something more going on?"

Seth frowned, annoyed that none of his questions were being answered. "Look, we were just friends. I wanted to be more but she didn't seem interested. I decided being friends was better than nothing. We met four years. She works at a lab, as a biologist, and I'm one of the night security guards. We'd see each other after her shift. Have a little dinner in the break room, and I'd walk her to her car before starting my shift. It was an innocent friendship. I swear."

Booth was feeling a pretty strong case of déjà vu at the moment. Not only did Temira Brend resemble Brennan but this Seth Boone looked like him. Their friendship reminded him of the friendship he had with Brennan. He was the muscle, like Seth, while she was the brains, like Temira. The entire episode screamed movie of the week. Now he knew how Brennan felt when she saw that face Angela had rendered. Brennan put her hand on his wrist, pressuring him to lower his gun. When he turned to look at her he saw the hurt in her eyes. They had to tell this man that his friend was dead, that he kept the plants and fish alive for nothing but hope.

He lowered his gun. "I'm sorry Mr. Boone, but Temira Brend is deceased." Seth dropped his arms to his side as he deflated like a balloon with a hole in it. All the life seemed to seep from him leaving him a shell of a man.

Tears sprang to his eyes and fell in a slow race down his cheeks. "I never should have settled for being her friend. I should have tried harder to show her just how much I loved her. Do you know what heartache is like?" he asked them but didn't wait for any answers. "What am I going to do now? How am I supposed to live?"

"There are groups that can help with lose," said Brennan in a soft voice.

Seth looked at her, a mix of rage and sorrow on his face. "You don't understand. She was the reason I went to work. The reason I got out of bed every day. Just the sight of her smile made the darkest day seem like the sunniest desert afternoon. I feel like half my heart has been torn from my chest."

Booth holstered his gun and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a little white business card. He handed it to Seth. "I'm really sorry for your loss, Mr. Boone. Please, go down to the police station tonight and talk with this officer. He'll take a full report of the last time you saw Temira and get it to me. I promise you that we'll catch the person who did this to her."

The distraught man took the card, looked at it, and then at Booth. There weren't any words that he could find in his grief stricken state. After a few minutes he just nodded. Booth gestured to Brennan and they left him standing there in the empty apartment of his lost lover. Solemnly they walked down the stairs, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until they reached the car that one of them spoke.

"I guess I owe you a dinner now," Brennan said. Her voice sounded hollow and distant.

"As long as we can drink, I could really use a strong one right now," Booth added in a sort of agreement.

"So, tonight, after shift?" she asked as she climbed into the car. How he'd gotten it repaired so fast was still a mystery to her. Probably her tax money hard at work.

Booth started up the car and pulled out onto the road. "Sounds good to me. I know just where I'm taking you too. There's this new Italian restaurant that just opened up near my place. It's the kind of place you can dress down or dress up for. It's your choice."

"How about we dress somewhere in between? I don't think I own anything lavishly expensive," confessed Brennan.

"Alright, I'll swing by your place at about seven-thirty, eight-ish. Does that work for you?" Booth asked. He still couldn't believe that Brennan was holding up her end of the bargain. Not that it was in her nature to go against her word.

"Okay by me," she replied.

He dropped her off at the lab and headed back to his office to fill out paperwork on his day. Brennan returned to her office as well. A blinking light on her answering machine showed that she'd missed only one call while she was out. She pressed the play button and listened as her agent apologized for calling her at the office after leaving a message on her home phone but they really needed to discuss her next book. Brennan made a mental note to call the woman first thing tomorrow. There was still too much to do today before her dinner with Booth.

Angela gave a soft rap on the door. "Hey," she said after Brennan waved her in. "You looked a little frazzled, sweetie, what's wrong? Booth didn't get you into another shootout did he? Oh, if he did I'm going to beat him with my sketchbook."

Brennan kind of smiled at the way her friend protected her. "No, it wasn't a shootout. It's something much worse."

Angela's eyes grew wide. "Worse? Do I even want to know?"

"I agreed to have dinner with him. Tonight."

"Oh," Angela exclaimed, nearly jumping for joy. "A date with Booth? It's about damn time you two started dating."

"It's not a date. At least, I don't think it's a date." Brennan paused and then, with a worried looked said, "It's a date, isn't it?"

All Angela could do was nod her head in answer. Brennan was thinking about what she'd gotten herself into.


	8. Down Poison

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Eight: Down Poison**

Brennan stood in front of the mirror that hung on the wall in her bathroom. She'd never really paid attention to her looks but tonight was important. Tonight she had a dinner date with Booth. The restaurant he wanted to take her to required a dressy appearance. How did she dress-up for this occasion? When was the last time she'd even been to a fancy restaurant? For the umpteenth time she wondered why she even made this date. Had it been worth the information gleamed from the dead girl's apartment? And would Booth think it was something more than it really was?

About to give up on the entire affair she was reaching for the phone to cancel when there came a knock at her door. Wondering who it was and praying that it wasn't Booth she opened the door. There stood Angela, a bag in her hands and a smile on her face.

"Angela, why are you here?"

"For you silly," she replied, holding up the bag. "I thought you might want some help."

Relieved that she didn't have to risk hurting Booth's feelings by canceling she grabbed Angela and dragged her into the apartment. "Where do we start?

"Just come with me, you're in good hands," Angela said, grasping Brennan's hand in her own and leading her to the bathroom.

A half-hour later everything was set. Her make-up had been done and her hair styled in a red-carpet way. The dress she wore hugged her curves and gave a hint of cleavage. It had been tucked away in her closet, where she'd gotten it or why was something she couldn't remember. The shimmering blue fabric would be perfect for the evening. Angela came breezing out of the bedroom, a gold chain dangling from her hand. Brennan recognized the gold chain and sapphire pendant as a necklace that belonged to her mother. It would look great with the dress. Angela drew it around her neck, closing the clasp.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Brennan, a hint of nervousness in her voice. Why did a simple thing like dinner make her nervous?

Angela smiled, a lone tear falling from her eye. "You look gorgeous. Booth is one lucky man tonight. Every other guy out there is going to be jealous of him."

"I don't know about this," Brennan said, having second thoughts.

"You'll be fine, sweetie," replied Angela, turning Brennan around so that they faced each other. "It's about time you got out in the dating world. You need a good guy, and Booth is a good guy. He cares about you, protects you, and you already know that he's a great father. What more could a woman want? The guy has a great body, a sense of humor, and I just know that there's a tinge of sensitivity in there somewhere. The only problem I can think of is that you're both career driven. That could put a damper on the relationship."

"It's not a relationship," defended Brennan. "It's only a date. And I don't think that's even the right word. It was more like a deal."

Angela smiled as someone knocked softly on the door. "You just keep telling yourself that, sweetie. But we woman have urges that need satisfaction." Giving her a kiss on the cheek, she said, "Have fun. I'm going to clean everything up and lock-up after I leave. Don't you worry about a thing."

Nervously, Brennan went to the door. Biting her lip, and feeling like a childish fool, she pulled open the door. There stood Booth, handsome as ever. The black suit he wore differed from the suits he wore to work. It looked oddly like a tuxedo. The black pants and suit jacket were spotless, something Brennan didn't think she could have managed to do. He wore a pristine white shirt and had a deep blue vest on over it.

He smiled. "Great minds think alike." Their blues nearly matched in tone and depth. How had he known she would wear blue? "You look absolutely beautiful this evening. I'm going to be the envy of every other man."

This caused Brennan to blush, something she didn't think she'd ever done. "Thank you. You look pretty nice yourself. Shall we go? I believe you have a reservation and we don't want to be late," she said, grabbing the little black purse that had been hanging with the dress. Inside she had slipped her house key, her identification, her cell phone, a small flashlight, and a pair of latex gloves; just in case. Life was unpredictable and she never knew when she'd get a call to look at a dead body. Just because she was on a date didn't mean she couldn't be ready. Booth probably had his FBI badge and service weapon with him somewhere. It was in their blood. They lived their jobs.

She stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. Booth helped her down the stairs. She hated wearing high heels. They just weren't right for her life. How had she let Angela talk her into wearing them? Continuing his gentlemanly ways he opened the door of the SUV and helped her inside. She felt a little out of place. When it came to Booth she liked to keep their work relationship just that, seeing each other in the office. Now here they were going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and he was treating her like a princess. How would this change things?

They drove along in silence. Both of them thinking about the night ahead. Usually they would have a case to discuss but now that they were on their own terms it was a little hard to find a topic. Where should they start the conversation? Booth couldn't ask Brennan about her family because he knew her parents were gone and she didn't talk to her brother. He didn't want to talk about work; it was time for some non-work related conversation. Time to learn a few new things about each other. Wasn't that the whole point of dating? Was this even a date?

A valet took the car from them when they got to the restaurant. Booth slipped his arm through Brennan's, taking her by surprise. Now they looked like a real couple. Walking side by side they were lead by a smartly dressed maitre d' to their table. The white table cloth was topped with two settings and a burning candle and some sort of green plant. Booth ushered the man away so that he could pull out Brennan's chair for her. She continued to feel awkward as she realized that people were watching them. Booth sat across from her, spreading his cloth napkin over his lap.

"Why are people watching us?" she whispered, leaning toward him.

Booth looked around. "Well, if they were, they aren't now. Relax, Bones, it's just dinner and some small talk. I think we can handle this. After all, we are both professionals, we both know how to talk, and last time I checked we both knew how to eat."

She smiled at his comforting voice; how was he so calm when she felt like a bundle of nerves? Their waiter came over to ask them about appetizers and to get in a drink order. Booth order wine of some sort, the name eluded Brennan. Unfortunately she wasn't exactly a wine aficionado. The bottle was brought right to the table and the aroma of the liquid filled their nostrils. She took a tentative sip. Hopefully she wouldn't get drunk and lose all control over herself, not that she felt afraid for her safety around Booth. Angela was right about him, he wanted to protect her.

After ordering their dinners- he got lasagna and she went with spaghetti- they both settled into an uncomfortable silence. Brennan had a look around the elaborately, yet tastefully decorated place. The walls were deep red, complementing the mahogany wood floor. The lighting was just right for romance but not so dim that she couldn't see the other patrons. Someone standing near the corner in a waiter outfit looked familiar to her but she couldn't quite place him.

"So," Brennan said, breaking the silence, "how's your son doing?"

Booth smiled at her thoughtfulness. "He's doing great. He wishes he could see me more often but between work and my ex it's just not possible. I'm thinking of taking a few days off next month. Maybe take him out to the zoo or something like that. Just spend a few days with him."

"That sounds nice. He's lucky to have a caring father like you," she remarked. She couldn't help but wondering if she'd ever have kids, did she even want kids? She sipped her wine, trying to take her mind off the question if Booth would want more kids.

Their meals were delivered in a timely manner and both of them being rather ravenous, they dug right in. The food tasted as good as it smelled. The chef knew how to make the taste buds sing. Like a married couple they found themselves passing forks back and forth, trying each others meals. They talked about random things, mainly whatever popped into their heads. There was discussion of traveling and places they wanted to some day visit. They discussed movies and music, though Brennan didn't have much to say on either topic because she didn't really follow either one. No sooner were the dinner plates whisked away than a plate of some delicious looking cake was placed on the table.

"We didn't order that," Booth said, giving the waiter a look.

"It's on the house, sir. Already paid for by a friend," the older man replied. He left before giving either one of them a chance to protest.

Shrugging his shoulders Booth took a spoonful and tasted it. He made a face that Brennan couldn't comprehend. "That's…interesting," he said after swallowing. He pushed the plate away. She smiled, not bothering to ruin the delicious meal with a lackluster dessert.

The check was brought to the table and Booth paid it. Not even allowing her to take a glance at it and see the total. He kept telling her that it was his treat. She'd been the one to suggest the date and here he was, paying for what had to have been an expensive meal. Though the night seemed to have gone by fast Brennan realized it was much later than she thought when they stepped outside. The night air greeted her, wrapping her in its embrace. The valet went off to get the car, leaving them out front alone. She looked at Booth.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't look so well," she said, taking in the fact that he swayed on his feet. He hadn't had more than two glasses of wine, surely that wasn't enough to make him drunk.

"I feel sort of sick," he confirmed. He appeared to be sweating. Maybe he was coming down with something.

"Give me the keys, you are not driving anyone home," she said, shoving her hand at him. He obliged by dropping the keys into her open hand. That's when she noticed that he was shaking. The night was cool but not enough to make anyone shiver. "On second thought, I think I'll take you to the hospital. You really don't look well."

"How kind of you to say that, Bones," he remarked, trying to be witty and not really coming off that way.

The valet brought the car around and she ushered in him into the passenger seat. Driving down the road she kept glancing over at him, making sure that he looked okay. He leaned his head against the glass of the window, his arms folded over his chest. Ten minutes away from the hospital he moaned.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered. She quickly flipped on her blinker and pulled over the side of the road. He appeared to the slide out of the car, stumbling in the grass like a man who had too many drinks at dinner. Brennan climbed out to check on him, to make sure that he was okay. When she got around to the other side of the car she found him laying on the grass, out cold.


	9. By My Side

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Nine: By My Side**

Brennan closed her eyes; she'd been in the waiting room for about an hour. The night was getting late and she didn't think there'd be enough sleeping hours before work tomorrow morning. Angela would tell her to take the day off but she couldn't do that. Not with a body waiting for some justice. She couldn't even remember the last time she took a day off, that's how rare an event it was. Her job had become her life, and for the first time she had tried to have a life outside work. Go figure, it ended in a hospital. She had torn her dress when trying to lift Booth back into the SUV after finding him out cold in the grass. She had been about to give up when a police cruiser pulled up behind her. The officer probably thought she was trying to ditch a dead body or something. Quickly searching Booth's pockets she smiled inwardly when her fingers brushed against his FBI badge. After showing it to the officer they got him back in the car and she was given a police escort to the hospital. Where she continued to wait.

She looked down at the tear in her dress. Angela would never forgive her for this, and that's the one reason Brennan hated fancy clothes; they tore too easily. They just weren't functional, not in her life. Feeling exhausted and in need of some support she pulled her cell phone from her little black purse. Would it be too late to call Angela? There wasn't anyone else she could phone. Zack and Hodgins wouldn't be sympathetic to her problem. At times, they were a bit childish and immature, like most men. She dialed the number. It rang three times before Angela picked up.

"Hello?" her voice sounded foggy with sleep.

Brennan instantly regretted calling her. After all, Angela had to work tomorrow too. "I'm sorry that I woke you," she apologized, unsure of what else to say.

"Temperance?" recognition filling Angela's voice. Brennan heard the rustling of fabric as Angela sat up in bed. "What's going on? You sound upset. Did something bad happen at dinner?"

"You could say that," sighed Brennan, relaxing against the back of the chair she sat in. "I'm at the hospital. Booth got really sick and passed out. I've been waiting here for nearly two hours and they still haven't said anything to me. I just wanted someone to talk to."

"Oh, sweetie, everything's going to be okay," assured Angela. "He probably just ate something that he had an allergic reaction to."

Brennan shook her head and then remembered that Angela couldn't see her. "No, this wasn't an allergic reaction. I don't really want to put it out there but I think he was poisoned. The way he was sweating and shaking. He looked terrible."

"But why would anyone want to poison Booth?" Angela asked in a voice full of curiosity.

"He is an FBI agent, Angela. I'm sure that he has pissed off a lot of people in his line of work. A lot of people who wouldn't mind getting even," Brennan said. "I bet it was that cake," she mused after a moment. "Someone bought us a piece of this odd looking cake and Booth took a bite of it. He said it had an interesting taste. I didn't touch it and I'm healthy. Someone sent use poisoned cake."

Angela chewed her bottom lip. "That means they could have been targeting you. Or maybe it was both of you. Do you have any enemies?"

"Everyone has enemies, Angela, it's part of life," Brennan replied. She looked up and saw a doctor in a white coat glancing at a sheet. He looked in her direction. "Listen, Ang, I have to go. The doctor is finally here. Sorry again that I woke you up."

"You can't just hang up on me," protested Angela. "I have to know what happens to Booth. Call me back, okay?"

"I'll fill you in when I see you at work tomorrow," she didn't wait for an answer before hanging up the phone.

Seeing that she had finished her conversation, the doctor walked over to her. He flipped through some paperwork on a clipboard before looking at her again. "Ms. Brennan?"

"Yes? Please tell me he's okay."

The doctor smiled at her, giving her hope that Booth would indeed be okay. "Your quick thinking could have very much saved his life," the doctor said, not making it clear whether or not Booth was okay. "We pumped his stomach after finding traces of poison in a rushed blood sample. We were not able to identify the substance as it was only starting to enter his bloodstream. The trace we had was too small. However, we may be able to get something from his stomach contents."

Brennan didn't want to hear anymore medical mumbo jumbo. She wasn't at work and she was worried about her friend. "But he's okay now, right?"

The doctor gave a little nod with his head. "He's resting at the moment. We gave him some intravenous floods to help. I would like to keep him here for the rest of the night, if that's okay. If all seems fine in the morning he can go home. But I would request that he take a day or two off; his system had a bit of a shock."

The news filled her with relief. Had she just taken him home like she'd originally planned he'd be dead by the morning. Shaking that thought from her mind she asked, "May I see him now?"

The doctor dropped the clipboard to his side. "Sure you can, he might even like that. Just follow me."

She followed the doctor passed nurses and rooms that other patients occupied. Finally they reached a room where the door was closed. The doctor gave her a go ahead nod and told her to stay as long as she liked, but not to make too much noise, as other people were trying to sleep. She thanked him before opening the door and stepping inside the room. The soft light kept the white walls from being too harsh. Why did hospitals always have to be white? Booth lay in the bed, under the cover of a light blue blanket, his breathing was regular and he looked to be asleep. An IV drip was connected to his left arm and they had him hooked to a heart monitor; just incase.

Pulling up a chair she sat down beside the bed. Booth didn't make any movement, no signs that he was going to wake up soon. Brennan took his warm hand in hers and a gave a little squeeze. Though his muscles responded by curling around her hand he still didn't wake up. She decided to let him sleep and sat there, watching his chest rise and fall. He didn't look so big and powerful now and that scared her a bit. She didn't want to lose him. She wished that he would wake up and smile at her. Until now she never realized how much she loved that smile.


	10. Smack

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Ten: Smack**

"Bones," came the sound of her name, breaking through her foggy mind. She stirred, not wanting to wake up. She'd fallen into a dream that she wanted to see end, she had to know the outcome. Whoever wanted her attention could wait a little while longer. It wouldn't hurt, sleeping a little longer. She'd earned the sleep, the right to recharge her body.

"Bones, wake up," the voice said more firmly. This time the person squeezed her hand, exerting a lot of pressure. She winced and her eyes opened. That's when she realized she had fallen asleep at the hospital. Her back ached from the uncomfortable chair that had put her in an awkward position. Her hair felt dirty and disgusting. This wasn't how she was used to waking up in the morning. Her eyes fall on Booth, who was conscious and looking at her.

He gave her one of those half smiles. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just going to stay for a while, to make sure you were okay," she explained, letting go of his hand and sitting up straight. Why had she stayed? That was a good question.

"Bones," his voice was beginning to fade a little. "You're late for work."

Her eyes followed his to the clock that sat on a table near the bed. She should have been at work an hour ago. "Oh shit," she cursed, jamming her feet in her high heels and grabbing her purse. "I hate to leave you but I have to get to work. I'll swing by at lunch and see if I can take you home."

He gave her a small smile as he drifted off to sleep again. All the way home she couldn't rid herself of the guilty feeling that gnawed away at her insides. She was going to be late for work because she went out to have fun. She was having fun while a skeleton sat on a table, waiting for her answers to track down a killer. This wasn't like her at all. She had never been late for work before. When the weather looked unfriendly she would leave early to make sure she got there on time. What was Dr. Goodman going to say? He couldn't possibly be mad at her. It was an honest mistake, something that never happened before, and would never happen again, she scolded herself.

Running up to her apartment, now an hour and a half late, she threw off the high heels and shimmied out of the torn dress. Five minutes was all she allowed herself in the shower. The hot water felt great and was inviting, she could have stayed there for hours enjoying the feel of water rushing over her skin. But she didn't have the time. Quickly drying herself with a towel she threw on the first functional pair of clothes she came across; khaki slacks and a black blouse. Transferring stuff from her little black bag into a more suitable location she chanced a glance at the clock. Now she was nearly two hours late. Her boss was going to chew her out. She just knew it. Even though she flew down the streets, racing to work like a madwoman she still ended up nearly three hours late. How could this have happened? How could she allow herself to fall asleep at the office where there was no alarm clock to wake her in the morning?

Racing into the building she ran right into Zack. "Hey, slow down, turn around and go home," he advised her.

She straightened her shirt and looked at her young charge. "Is he that mad at me?"

"That man's on a warpath," Zack whispered as he swept by her.

Her shoulders slumped. Great, not only was she late but she'd made things harder for the rest of the team. What would be the best way to handle this? I should just talk to him, she thought as she walked up the stairs, maybe if I explained it wouldn't be so bad. Feeling a touch of resolve she decided to head for Dr. Goodman's office. Turning around she found him standing behind her, anger burning in his eyes.

"Dr. Brennan, how nice of you to join us this morning," his voice was tight and guarded.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Goodman. I went out last night and things happened. I lost track of time," she apologized in hast. "Booth-"

"Listen to me, Dr. Brennan. You are a good anthropologist, the best this lab has every seen. I will not have you ruining your reputation, and ours, because you had to sleep with an FBI agent. Which, if I must remind you, is a work relationship. Perhaps you should think about this better. You are a scientist for crying out loud," Dr. Goodman barked at her, forgetting to hold his anger in.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it but once her hand was in motion there was no stopping it. The smack echoed in the quiet lab, sounding more like a gunshot. Dr. Goodman put a hand to his cheek, fire burning in his eyes. He couldn't believe that she had hit him, neither could she, but he had crossed the line.

"For your information, Dr. Goodman, if you had let me finish you would know that I was at the hospital. Booth was admitted last night," she snapped at him, trying to force the tears that sprang to her eyes back down. "I was late because I fell asleep sitting beside his bed. I did not sleep with him. And what the hell does it matter to you if I did? Last time I checked that was none of your business."

With that said she turned on her heel and made way to her office. She passed Hodgins and Angela, both of them had witnessed the exchange. Brennan didn't know if there would be any repercussions from hitting her boss, but if blow came to blow she could claim some form of sexual harassment; couldn't she? He had not right to talk about her personal life, or in this case, what he thought was her personal life. Closing the door to her office she finally let the tears fall. It wasn't like her to cry, not in a place so public. It made her look weak and she didn't like that. But everything had gone wrong.

There was a knock on the door. "Go away," she said, trying to hide her sorrow in her voice.

"Sweetie, please open the door," Angela said.

Hearing her concern, Brennan let her slip inside before closing and locking the office door behind her. She didn't want anyone else intruding on them.

"Don't worry about it," soothed Angela. "He can't very well press charges. He had it coming anyway. Where does he get off assuming that you're sleeping around like that? It was only dinner. How is Booth? Is he doing better?" Angela put a hand comforting hand on Brennan's shoulder, always the best friend a girl could have. Brennan made a mental note to try and treat her better.

"He was doing fine this morning, a bit groggy," she replied. "I'm going to drive him home on my lunch hour. I don't think anyone else can get him. You know those FBI types, always busy, busy, busy."

Angela smiled. "And what about the dinner, was it a lovely night, you know, before…?"

Brennan thought about it and found herself smiling. "Yes, it was a good night. It felt nice to go out and forget about the world for a few hours. Is it always like that?"

"You bet, and it gets better," assured Angela, nodding her head.

That's when Brennan remembered what had happened. "I tore my dress trying to get an out cold Booth back in the car."

Angela gave a little laugh. "Who cares about torn dresses when you're in love?"


	11. So I Need You

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Eleven: So I Need You**

Lunch came quicker than Brennan expected it would. Dr. Goodman had been avoiding her since their exchange that morning. He either didn't feel comfortable around or was embarrassed and unsure of how to apologize. She didn't really care. There were more pressing matters at hand. Like picking Booth up from the hospital. She drove the streets in a leisurely manner, screw it if she was late again. Her boss could just deal with it today. She had a friend in need and she wasn't going to leave him stranded.

Pulling up the hospital she found Booth sitting outside in the sunshine on a bench. This surprised her. She been expecting to find him inside, and had kind of been hoping to talk with his doctor. He waved at her before getting up and making his way to her car. He climbed in, a smile on his face.

"I could get use to this, you know," he told her in a happy voice.

"Used to what?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Having you around all the time. Maybe instead of picking me up from my lunch we could be going out to lunch. We could carpool to work," he dreamed aloud.

Brennan shook her head. "Don't start with me. I'm in so much trouble with my boss right now; he'll probably kill me if he finds me late again. You should have heard the things he said to me this morning. I don't know what came over me but I hit him, smacked him right across the cheek." Why was she telling him this?

Booth looked at her. "Wow, didn't know you had it in you. May I ask what he said that upset you?"

Brennan chewed her bottom lip, not sure if she wanted Booth to know that her boss thought they'd slept together. What sort of ideas would that give him? "Never mind what he said, he just had no right in saying it."

They drove along, silence making a home in the car. Not even the constant chatter of the radio seemed to break the barrier of uneasiness. Last night they had talked about so much. They had been comfortable in each other's presence. Now it was like they were back in school, unsure of what to do with one another. Booth rested his head on the head rest and closed his eyes. Brennan prayed that he would fall asleep; she'd rouse him when they reached his place but her luck just didn't run that way today.

"You know that I like you a lot, Bones," he said, not opening his eyes. "I'm glad that you stayed with me last night. It was nice to wake up with you sitting there. You look so peaceful when you're sleeping, you know? Like an angel."

She wasn't sure what to say to him. Should she tell him that she hadn't meant to stay, that it was just an accident? No, that would be cruel and her heart wasn't in it. In fact, she didn't understand the feeling that had been coursing through her body since picking him up at the hospital. What had Angela said? Something about being in love. Was that what she was feeling? The idea scared her. She had never been in love before and didn't quite know what to do. Bones she could handle, they didn't have emotions or feelings. They just told a tale and that was that. People were different, more complex. They had feelings, motives, opinions, wants, needs, and so on. Why couldn't she understand them? She was a scientist after all.

Stopping at a red light she chanced a glance in his direction. He still had his eyes closed. She studied him, the way the light touched his face, the way he breathed. Why had she never seen him like this before? Just as she feared the night out had changed them. Nothing was going to be the same. Someone honked their horn behind her and she returned her gaze to the road just as Booth opened her eyes.

"So," she said, tired of the silence and that fact that she could hear herself thing. "What did your doctor say?"

Booth shrugged. "They didn't find any traces of the poison, so they have no idea what it was. He told me to take a few days off but I'm not going to. I have cases to handle, people to help, others to arrest. Not to mention, there's that whole missing-girl-wound-up-dead case that I'm working with you. She deserves some peace, don't you think?"

"But don't you think you should listen to your doctor?" Brennan asked, always thinking rationally.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to get rid of me, Bones," he replied, using her nickname. Instead of making her angry it made her heart flutter.

"I just don't want you to push yourself too hard, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less." It was the truth, she told herself. She was just doing the friendly thing and be concerned about his welfare.

When she next looked at him there was look of pain on his face and she knew that it was because of what she had said. His feelings for her really ran deep. Something she really hadn't been expecting. Why did he love her so much? What was it about her that he found so attractive? Here was a man who had everything; a job he was great at, model-handsome looks, a son who loved him, friends that fought for him, enough money to be comfortable. He could have any girl in the world, any little thin blond chick with a nice chest and yet, he wanted her. She should have been flattered that he was interested in lowly her. Sure, she didn't look half bad but she wasn't exactly the best choice. All her time was spent studying things, not watching TV. She still hadn't figured out what was so funny about "Seinfeld". Of course, she'd only watched the one episode and felt a few degrees dumber after it ended.

She pulled up in front of his apartment building. He looked at her for a few minutes, letting his eyes drink her in. She shifted around uncomfortably under his watchful gaze. "Something I can do for you?" she asked, turning to look at him.

He smiled. "No, I just like looking at you. You're very beautiful, even when you're not made up for a date."

She felt herself blush as he climbed out the car. He peeked in the open window. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bones. Don't go doing anything stupid without me, got it?"

Brennan bit her lip, trying to fight back the words that desperately wanted to be free. But holding them in was like trying to hold back a hiccup. "Can I come over here after work?"

"Why?" he asked, giving her a look of surprise and confusion. Had he heard her right, she wanted to come to his place?

"Because I need you," she blurted out. Then, realizing what she had said, she let up on the gas and sped away. Booth barely had time to step away as the car drove off. When she looked in her rearview mirror she saw that he still stood on the curb, his dark eyes watching her car disappear down the road. For once he wasn't smiling.


	12. When I'm Gone

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

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**Chapter Twelve: When I'm Gone**

Booth busied himself with cleaning up his apartment. It had been a while since he had actually spent any time doing the tasks that most people did daily. Tasks that got put on the side burner while he worked his job. Being an FBI agent could be tiring but he loved his job. Well, he didn't much care for that part when he had to tell people that their loved ones had either died or been up to no good. Now he found that he had the whole day to do whatever his heart desired, and he spent that time cleaning. The dishes in the sink needed washing but he threw them in the dishwasher without first rinsing them off. When the buzz of the machine started he started collecting up the trash and recyclables. No matter what a guy did for a living a bachelor pad always looked the same, trashy and unkempt.

After cleaning the kitchen and picking up all the trash the place looked greatly improved. Going over to the closet he pulled out a rubber tote and began loading all of his son's toys into it. They'd been scattered all over the floor since the last visit, which had been about two weeks ago. Booth was tired of tripping over the little red fire truck every morning. After disposing of the toys, back into the closet, he ran the vacuum and sprayed some air freshener. It took him three hours to get the apartment in order. It would be another few hours yet until Brennan got off work. She had said that she wanted to come over tonight, but would she bother to show up? After driving off the way that she did, Booth had his doubts. Still, she was an unpredictable person. She could very well show up just like she had said.

Going through the cabinets Booth found that he didn't really have anything to offer her for dinner. That meant he would have to take a run down to the grocery store. And even if she didn't show, he should still have more food in the house. Having made up his mind he grabbed the car keys off the counter and headed for the door. His doctor had told him to take it easy, that his body had dealt with a shocker. He felt fine, though. A little bit on the bored side but that would be over soon. He trudged down the stairs, feeling light as a feather, floating on cloud nine. Maybe the dinner had been a good thing. Maybe, just maybe, Brennan had finally seen him in a new light. This could be the night of his dreams.

The black SUV that belonged to the FBI sat in its familiar spot with its black coat shimmering in the sun and its government license plates easy to read. He hopped behind the wheel and started the engine. Pulling from the parking lot he headed toward the grocery store he always shopped out. It would only take him a few minutes to pick up the things he needed. No one would ever know that he left the house. He'd be back way before Brennan's shift ended at the Jeffersonian. Pulling up to the grocery store he parked the car and climbed out. The place was humming with mothers and teenagers, nothing out of the ordinary. He had been hoping that the drive and the shopping would keep him from being bored but it didn't look like things were going to work out that way.

He was trying to figure out what to serve for dinner when he saw that the hamburger was on sale. Thinking over the recipes he knew off the top of his head he decided to make an old family favorite; Shepherd's Pie. Next he picked up a bag of potatoes and some canned corn. Before going to the checkout counter he grabbed a case of soda and some bottled water. He didn't want to bother getting any alcoholic beverages because it just didn't go with the meal. Plus, he didn't want Brennan to think he was trying to lay her or something by getting her drunk.

His little side trip, shopping and driving included, had only taken him about an hour. They say that time flies when you're having fun, but when you're bored, it moves like a snail. Not sure of what to do with his time he placed the bags on the counter, dropped the keys next to them, slipped out of his shoes, and went to the couch. There he lay down, propping his head up on some pillows. A little nap wouldn't hurt anyone, and it would pass the time a lot quicker than sitting up wondering what to do. He closed his eyes, ready to drift off for an hour or two.

A banging at his door woke him with a start. He looked at the clock on the VCR and saw that he'd been asleep a lot longer than he'd planned. There was a great chance that the person at the door was Brennan, and he didn't even have dinner started. Now he would have to cook and entertain at the same time. It had been a while since he'd done that. Climbing up off the couch he made his way to the door. The person outside was pretty insistent that he answer.

"I'm coming," he grumbled, trying hard not to sound angry. Brennan was not the type to knock down a door.

He pulled the door open and looked at the figure standing outside. He didn't recognize the person. Something told him he should have but he wasn't sure what it was. The figure smiled at him, showing off perfectly white, even teeth.

"Something I can for you?" Booth asked. "After all, you didn't just about knock down my door to smile at me. What do you want?"

Sure, he sounded mad but he had every right to be. Brennan would be along shortly and he wanted to get dinner started. He had to brown the hamburger, and peel and chop the potatoes before putting them in a pot of water to soften them. There wasn't time for stupid little things like this. The person just continued to smile at him.

"Look buddy, I'm busy. I've got company coming and you're wasting my time," he said, as he began to close the door. A foot and a strong arm kept him from completing the task.

The figure from the hallway pushed its way into the apartment, shoving the door back into Booth and knocking him off balance. He heard the door slam shut and watched as the figure pulled something from his pocket. To Booth it looked like a long, sharp needle with some sort of liquid inside. His mind was foggy, having been hit in the head with the edge of the door. Where had he left his gun? Was it on the shelf above the plant his ex-wife had given him as a housewarming gift? Or was it locked up in the drawer of the coffee table? It didn't matter. There wasn't any time to look. He felt the needle pierce his skin as whatever liquid inside was injected into his body. After that he didn't remember anything else.


	13. Away From the Sun

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Violence, language.

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**Chapter Thirteen: Away From The Sun**

When he did finally wake up he began to wish that he'd stayed asleep. His body ached in every way imaginable. It was like he had been thrown up against a wall, not once, but twice. His shoulders ached and when he went to move his arms he found them tied behind his back. No attempt could break whatever bound them together. Feeling a sinking despair he looked down to find his feet in the same condition, bound at the ankles, a chain digging into the skin ever so slightly. There was no way he could break out of them. At least he counted himself lucky not to be gagged or blindfolded, not that being blindfolded would have mattered, it was already dark enough.

The ground beneath him felt like concrete, damp concrete. That led him to believe that he was somewhere underground, most likely in a basement. How much time had passed since he had been attacked at his apartment? Had they drive far or were they within the city limits? Try as he might he couldn't hear anything but the beat of his own heart. If it was tomorrow then people would be looking for him. Brennan would have found him missing. That is, if she had shown up. Did anyone realize that he was gone? Doing the best that he could he managed to sit up, it took him longer than he would have liked but it felt good to get the weight off of his left shoulder, which had been between him and the unforgiving concrete.

Sitting up turned out to be a bad idea. He felt the nausea growing inside and the spinning of the room only made matters worse. He was going to be sick and there was no way to stop it. Leaning slightly sideways he vomited, empty what little contents had been in his stomach. Whatever had been in that needle was no doubt the culprit of his nausea. Would he be getting sicker? His immune system was already slightly weakened from the poison the other night. How many days ago had that been? Was it last night, yesterday night, or a week ago? How long had he been out of it?

The room was feeling stuffy and it made it harder to breathe. He need cool, refreshing air, something with a current. His head was really beginning to hurt and he thought of lying on his side again, the cooling concrete would be soothing. It felt like he was getting a fever. Was it that he was burning up or that he just didn't want to be in here? Who had the guts to kidnap an FBI agent? Didn't they know that they would get into a hell of a lot of trouble? Especially if he died. That unwelcoming thought just popped into his head. He couldn't die. He had a son to raise, people to rescue, and girl that he wanted to love.

His head began to hurt more and more. It was like some little person inside was running around, banging on the side of his skull like it was a drum. Little lights began to explode in his vision and he knew that he was going to passing out. He didn't really want to do that. He made him vulnerable to whomever it was that held him captive. The darkness crept ever closer, though and before he knew it he was falling into an endless pit.

When he awoke next he found himself in the same dark place. All hopes of it having been a bad dream washed away. He moved, finding that his arms were no longer bound together. Neither were his feet. That meant one of two things; either his capturer was an idiot or they were sure Booth would not escape. The thought of climbing to his feet and having a look around was encouraging, but he delayed actually standing after remembering what happened when he sat up the first time. This was something that would have to take time. Happy to at least not be bound anymore he began to have a feel around. His hand bumped against something and it rolled slightly.

Grabbing at it he realized that it was a flashlight. Feeling a bit of hope he flicked it on. The beam of light hurt his eyes after being in the dark for lord only knows how long. Now would be a perfect time to check out his surroundings. The beam of light flashed off the metallic walls and for a moment he found that he was confused. Shining the light on the floor he found that he'd been mistaken, it wasn't concrete, it was metal. With a sinking recognition he knew where he was; locked up tight in one of those ugly shipping storages. How would anyone get the idea to look for him here? Screaming wouldn't help, docks were noisy places and he'd have to scream for help all day. What were the chances that he'd catch someone walking by?

He dropped the light and it shone on the corner of something white. Something flat, resting on the floor near the door. Most likely a piece of paper. Still not comfortable with the idea of getting up and he crawled his way over to it, flashlight in hand. The piece of paper was small with light blue lines. Ugly black letters were scrawled across it. He read them over and over, letting his mind absorb what the note said.

_She doesn't realize how much you love her. She's too blind to see. But maybe once you're gone, she'll come to realize that she missed her chance. Next time you'll see each other you'll be a skeleton on her table._

They were talking about Brennan. How did this person know her? How did they know about his feelings for her and that she didn't return them? Wait, she was starting to. She was going to visit him that night, to talk, and this person had come along and messed it all up. Frustrated, he threw the flashlight across the container. It hit the wall with a thud and the light went out, leaving him in the dark again. It wasn't until he brought his hands to face that he realized he was crying.


	14. The Road I'm On

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Note: **new profile updates.

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Fourteen: The Road I'm On**

Time kept passing on like nothing mattered anymore, and Booth was beginning to think that nothing mattered. He'd lost all sense of time, having had his watch removed and his cell phone left at him. When did the sun set? When did people go home to their families' and enjoy the love and comfort there? One of the most troubling questions was, how long had he been confined in this box? It was hot and stuffy, his stomach empty, his mouth dry. For all he knew it was days since he last ate, or even had a cup of refreshing water. The note had said that Brennan would find his bones. It appeared as though his captor was going to starve him to death. What a slow and painful way to go.

The other question that constantly ran through his mind was whether or not anyone was looking for him. Days had to have gone by, right? It felt like he'd been locked up for eternity. The FBI must have gone over his home, his car, his desk in search of clues to his disappearance. They wouldn't just forget about him. He was important. He was part of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They should be scouring the town looking for him. But would they ever find him? There was no reason for them to check the docks. This was the kind of place that mobsters hid bodies. It had been a very long time since Booth had dealt with anything that like. He hung his head, they'd never find him.

He couldn't help but wonder what Brennan was doing now. Was she crying over him? Did she even really care? Did her heart stop with fear every time a skeleton was found? Did she even so much as think of him? She had to think of him. He kept thinking back to the day when she picked him up from the hospital, that glint in her eye, it sparkled like a diamond. There had been something on her mind, something she wanted to share with him. Only, she never got the chance and probably never would. He knew that she was strong. After all, she dealt with the disappearance of her parents and learning that her mother was indeed dead. His death would just be another rock in the road.

Feeling deflated he curled up on his side in the fetal position. What was his son doing right now? Had his ex-wife even told him that daddy was missing? Or had she decided to keep it a secret until they found him, dead or alive? He wanted to hold his son. He wanted to take him to the National Zoo to see the pandas like he promised. It had always been his goal to be a good father. But how could he be a good father if he died?

But most of all he found himself wanting to be near Brennan. He wanted to touch her, to feel the smoothness of her skin. He wanted to inhale the smell that could only be associated with her. He wanted to run his fingers through her silky hair and stare longingly into her beautiful eyes.

He began to cry again, his body shaking with sobs. Being confined in this black box was starting to drive him crazy. A year or so ago he had read the story about a CSI who'd been buried alive. At least that hadn't happened to him, though at times he found himself thinking it would be better. The coffin would have been too small to move around, no air would seep in; this damn place was making him feel like a caged animal. He could pace, there was always oxygen, but never a way out. Bits of light would seep through a tiny crack under the door but he was never sure if it was sunlight or the beam of a security light.

Crawling across the metal floor toward the flashlight he prayed that it would work, that it would turn on. He wanted to see the light. Any light would be nice, even the artificial light the flashlight would provide. The beam was weaker than before but it still worked. It gave him a sense of relief and a sense of strength. Finally climbing to his feet for the first time he walked toward the door of the crate. He yelled, making his voice as strong as possible, calling for help. Hoping that anyone would hear him and come to his rescue. He didn't want to die here. Not like this. There was still so much more he had to do.

For an hour he stood at the door and yelled. Finally, his throat soar and his energy gone he slumped to the floor. No one had heard him. No one had passed by and called out in response. It was as though he was in other world, another dimension. He didn't exist anymore. Turning off the flashlight he curled up on his side to do the only thing he really could do; sleep. He resolved to continue his plea for help when he awoke. There would be no more pity. From now on he would use every waking minute to yell for help. When his energy ran out, he'd sleep to recharge his batteries. Eventually someone was bound to hear him.

Closing his eyes he saw Brennan's smiling face. She stood outside, dressed in a lovely light blue cotton dress. Her hair danced in the breeze. He heard the laughter of his son and he kicked a ball toward Brennan. They were this happy little family, playing together outside on the lush green grass of the backyard. It was the perfect picture and he clung to it until his mind shut off, pulling him into the world of deep sleep. At least he escaped the pain and his confines for another day.


	15. Ticket To Heaven

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**Chapter Fifteen: Ticket to Heaven**

Light began to dance before his eyes and he thought that he was hallucinating. His stomach was emptier than it had ever been before and his throat ached with the need of water. Now he understood, now he knew what it felt like to die. He had given up all hope, for what did he have to hold onto? The others weren't looking for him. They would have found him by now if they cared to look. Whoever kidnapped him had to have left some sort of evidence behind. They could trace the kidnapper, make him talk, maybe find out where he'd been in the last few days, weeks….how long had it been? He closed his eyes, laid his head on the hot metal floor, and drifted off. There was nothing else for him to do.

There came a loud bang. It started him and he shot up into a sitting position. Someone had opened the door. He'd been asleep and someone had come by. How did they know when he would be out of it? Were they watching him? Did they have cameras on him at all times? Paranoid and slightly hopeful he turned on the flashlight and searched over every spot of the metal shipping crate. There weren't any cameras. Even if there were, how would they hide them, and where? The weak beam of light fell on a bundle near the door. He crawled toward it in hopes of finding food.

Instead he found a manila envelope. He ripped it open and explored the contents at his leisure. A new set of batteries had been given to him so that when the old ones wore out he could still see the walls of his cage. Next he found a pencil and two pens. Why did he need writing materials? He dumped the rest of the contents on the floor. There were a few pages of notebook paper, some photos, and a note. The handwriting was the same as the original note and the message gave him no hope. This one told him to write out his goodbyes, to leave something behind for those who found him. He sat hard against the wall, picking up the photos. They brought tears to his eyes, and a touch of fear.

The first photo was of his son and his ex-wife. They were playing together at the park, sitting in the sandbox and building castles. This person knew about his son. Trying to keep his thoughts positive he looked at the next picture. Angela, Zack, Hodgins, and Dr Goodman all stared back at him. He recognized the photo from Brennan's apartment. He had taken it himself. He gave it to her as a Christmas gift one year, surrounded by a silver frame. According to Angela she cried when she saw it. The memory was bittersweet and he felt himself smile. The last picture sent chills down his spine. It was of him and Brennan together, the night of their date. The last night they would ever spend together. Whoever had taken him had been following him and those he cared about. What had he ever done? Who had he pissed off?

Dropping the photos he looked at the paper and the pens. He really should leave them something. Anything to remember him by. They should know that he thought of them when he was confined. He thought only of them and how much he wanted to see them again. He wanted to play with his son. He wanted to hear Zack describe something he didn't understand and probably never would. And most of, he wanted to argue with Brennan.

Putting pen to paper he began to write. There was little else to do. At first the words did not come. How could they? He never thought he'd be writing a note like this. He wanted to die peacefully in his sleep or while doing his job. Either way, he wanted it to be quick; the sort of death that would leave people saying that he never saw it coming. That would be better than suffering. Anything would be better than starving to death.

He went to reach for the flashlight to make the paper easier to see and it rolled a few inches away. As it rolled a flash of silver caught his eye. Curious he grasped the light and turned it toward the envelope and its scattered contents. There, laying amongst everything else was a knife. He hadn't seen it the first time, maybe he hadn't wanted to. Gingerly he plucked it from the floor. It was of a good weight and the blade extra sharp. Only one cut and his suffering would end. He smiled. That's probably why the poor bastard gave it to him. Maybe his captor was tired of his existence, of the fact that he was still alive. Booth dropped the knife. He would not give in that easily. It gave him a touch of hope to know that he was pissing off his kidnapper. He had to piss off someone.

Returning to his paper he wrote one quick little note. One message that would say everything that was on his mind without taking up more than one line. Smiling, he slipped the piece of paper back into the envelope and wrote a few words on the outside. Picking up the pictures, pens, leftover paper, and batteries he returned to the back corner and settled down. Eventually his captor would return. This person would see the envelope and the intended message. Booth wished he could see their face as they read what he wrote. But he knew that wasn't going to happen. He knew he would be lucky if he lived another few hours. Things were starting to get really bad. The little popping lights kept invading his vision and then he would pass out. Only a few hours would pass in which he would have nightmares. He would awake to find himself in the same damn place, never free.

Maybe it would never end, he thought as he closed his eyes to sleep once again. Maybe they really will find my bones. Months or years from now, someone will open this shipping cargo and they'll see me, a pile of bones. Only then will Bones and the rest of them get peace. What a way to go.


	16. Running out of Days

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Sixteen: Running out of Days**

He cried out in frustration when he woke the next time. He couldn't believe that he was still alive, that he continued to suffer. Why couldn't he just die? Why did he have to hang on the way that he was? By now, if anyone had been looking for him they had probably stopped. They probably assumed he was one of those missing people that never got found. What a terrible thought to have but it stood out from all the others. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he finally died. He had less and less energy. Even waking up was beginning to be too much. He just wanted to sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He shone the flashlight toward the door and found that his note still lay where he left it. His captor had not returned recently. He was getting desperate. He needed a way out. A man could only take so much pain and suffering. He didn't want to sit around anymore wondering if they'd find him. Wondering if they were even safe. What if this maniac had gotten a hold of his son? Of the squints? Of Bones? What would be left for him when he got out? If he ever got out.

Picking up the pen he finally began to write.

_This is not what I wanted. Nobody wants this, to sit around in the dark with a flashlight for comfort. Who would want to sit here and suffer, knowing that they're going to starve to death? I feel so empty inside. My body is getting weaker and my mind has grown foggy. My vision is not the best. I keep blacking out and that's not usually a good sign. Even if I did find a way out of here, would I be healthy enough to be saved? I can't help but wonder how many days have passed and how many more will go by before I'm found. The fact that I may never be found is daunting and killing my spirit even more. There is no hope in a box like this. At times I feel like a baking potato, other times I feel like a caged beast. I just want to be free. I want to see the sun again. To feel the wind on my skin and hear the sounds of life. All I can hear in this place are my own thoughts. _

_All I can think of is you._

_Parker, how I miss you. I'm sorry that I didn't make more time for you. If I had the chance to do it all over again I would spend every day with you. We'd go wherever you wanted to, do whatever you wanted. I'd give anything to see you smile, to hear you laugh. I know that you'll turn out to be a wonderful man. You'll get married and have kids of your own someday. Don't make the mistakes that I did. Spend time with the ones that you love. Never hold anything back. Find a job you can love but one that doesn't dominate your life. But most of all be happy in your life. _

_Temperance, what can I say to you? There are so many things that I've kept to myself over the years. All of sudden I want to share them with and only you. There's something about you that makes me feel like a king. I don't care that we come from different worlds. It doesn't matter to me that you don't understand half the things that I say, hell, I don't understand half that medical stuff you talk about. Just spending time with you makes me feel complete inside. You are the missing puzzle piece that I've been looking for over the last few years. I just wish we didn't disagree so much. Who knows what could have happened if there had been time. Would we have finally gotten passed our differences and become more than friends? Be happy, Bones, forgive your brother and live in peace. You deserve it._

_To the rest of you squints, what can I say? As much as I don't want to admit it, and mind you, I never will admit it anywhere other than here, you guys are the greatest friends a man can have. Sure, I make fun of you and your geeky-ness but really, I enjoy your company. You are real. Too many agents get that high and mighty attitude. You guys do your jobs and remain human. Does that make any sense? Ha, of course it makes sense, you're scientists. Pretty much everything makes sense to you. Promise me that you'll each find happiness somewhere in life, and never stop doing what you're doing. You give people the justice they deserve._

_That's really all I have to say, I guess. What more can I say? Actually, I do wish that you guys could have found me faster. There are so many things I wish I could have done in my life. But all in all, I guess I'm pretty happy with how things worked out. I joined the FBI to make up for my sins as a sniper. Over the years I've put a lot of bad guys behind bars. It was really only a matter of time before one of them turned the tables. Lastly, don't forget me. Please, there is nothing in the world more painful than being forgotten. Even after you're gone._

_Regretfully,_

_Agent Seeley Booth, FBI_

He dropped the pen, it rolled a little before stopping. He re-read the note before folding it up and placing it on what he figured to be the exact center of the shipping cargo. It was important that they found the note. Then he began to think, what if they didn't find it? What if his captor found it first and threw it away? That would leave his loved ones with nothing. Plucking the paper from the metal floor he stuck it in his back pocket. Feeling slightly feverish he lay down on his stomach. The metal floor wasn't too cool to the touch but it was better than the walls which felt as though they'd been soaking up the sun.

Staring into the darkness he wondered what was going on in the world outside. Did people pass by the shipping cargo on daily tasks at the docks? Was his son missing him? Did his colleagues mourn his loss? Had they given up on him and cleared his desk off all the personal affects? And what about Brennan? His thoughts kept wrapping back around to her. They could have been happy together, if given half the chance. Then, out of nowhere he thought of the case they'd been working. The case of Temira Brend, the girl that looked so much like Brennan. He thought about her friend, the one that looked like him. He remembered the guy telling him how much he loved Temira. It was almost the exact same situation that he found himself in with Brennan. Instead, he was going to be the one that died.

"Life is ironic," he whispered into the dark. Even though his energy was failing and his throat was dry he found the ability to laugh. It hurt but he didn't care. Everything hurt. His laughter soon turned into sobs. With one last look around the dark enclosure he closed his eyes.


	17. Here Without You

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Seventeen: Here Without You**

She turned off the radio in her car. She didn't want to listen to the news reports anymore. They were all the same. They never changed. For four days now the search had been on to find the missing agent. Brennan looked up at the Jeffersonian from inside her car. She recalled the night she went over to see Booth. She had gone to talk to him, hoping to make sense of the feelings that were swimming around inside her. Only, it didn't appear as if that was ever going to happen. She remembered the panic that had sent her heart fluttering when she had seen Booth's apartment door hanging open. No one had been able to find him since that day. Part of her was afraid that he would be the next body on her table. But Angela wouldn't let her think like that. Bless her heart; Angela tried hard to cheer Brennan up. The only thing that would make her happy was to know that Booth was okay.

It was common knowledge that the agent wouldn't just walk away. He loved his job, he loved his son. And she knew that he loved her. Why would anyway kidnap him and not leave a ransom? Or call one in? His fellow agents had scoured the city looking for him. They had interviewed everyone and anyone, including every person employed at the Jeffersonian. They went over old case files looking for disgruntled convicts. Every time they found one, they tracked them down. None of them had seen Booth and they all had solid alibis. It was almost like he had just disappeared off the face of the earth. Here one minute and gone the next. It didn't make any sense.

She was about to climb out of her car when someone knocked on the window. The unexpected sound made her jump. Instead of climbing out she opened the car window. Standing outside her car was the agent who had blown up at Booth after the shoot out. He looked years older, like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Agent Stone is there something I can do for you?" her voice was flat. The man hadn't exactly shown his best side to her, and after talking with Booth, she was a bit leery of him.

"Actually, there is," he replied. "I need you to come with me."

Brennan looked at him, trying to gauge what his motive was. "Where to and what for? Last time I checked you weren't too fond of having me hanging around."

He gave her a smile. "That's true, but I think it would be best to have you along on this." He nodded at the passenger seat. "May I?"

Curiosity getting the better of her Brennan unlocked the passenger door so that he could climb in beside her. It may have been a bad idea but she felt like giving the agent a second chance. "Along for what, if I may ask?"

"We're going to the docks," he replied.

At first, Brennan was scared. Had she made a fatal mistake? Was this agent, this man of the law, going to do something to her? Booth had said some pretty nasty things about Agent Stone and here she was, letting the man into her car. Now he wanted her to drive to the docks. The deserted docks. With all the metal storage containers. What motive would he have for killing her? Unless of course he had done something to Booth and thought she knew. Was she a loose end? Relief washed over her as a uniformed officer stopped by the car and talked with Agent Stone. They were indeed going to the docks. The officer and his partner were going too.

"You want to tell me what this is about?" Brennan asked as she pulled into traffic. Checking her mirrors she saw the cop car pulling out behind her.

"I have reason to believe that Booth may be there somewhere," he replied, giving her a long look, probably trying to gauge her reaction.

"Why would Booth be at the docks?" She prided herself on keeping her joy locked inside.

"A worker thought he heard screaming coming from one of the storage containers. I sent an officer out there to secure the sight," explained Agent Stone. "I gave him explicit instructions not to open the container. He's been waiting for me. I was going to head over there myself when I was hit with an idea."

"And this idea has something to do with me?" Brennan gave him a quick sideways glance before returning her eyes to the road. "I don't mean to sound rude, Agent Stone, as I'm sure you know how to do your job, but if Booth is in that container, why would you make that officer wait to open the doors?"

"Because I want you there," he replied.

The words took her by surprise. "Why? I'm not an agent, or even a cop. I'm just an anthropologist." Realization hit her as soon as the words were out. Quickly she brushed the thought from her mind. Agent Stone couldn't mean what she thought he did.

"Seeley Booth talks about you to anyone willing to listen," Agent Stone said. "It's clear that the man has a thing for you. If he is indeed in that container I thought it would be best for him to have you there. Someone he trusts with his life." Agent Stone paused, chewing over a thought in his mind. "You may not know this but that man would die for you."

"Let's hope he doesn't have to," was all Brennan could think to say.

They arrived at the docks. She parked her car near a patrol car that was already there. An officer leaning against the hood gave them a grim smile of welcome. The two officers that had followed them climbed out of their patrol car. An ambulance slipped into the parking lot, its sirens off. Brennan and Agent Stone followed one officer while the others stayed behind with the paramedics. She felt cold, walking amongst all the large metal containers. If Booth really was in one, how had he faired? The weather had been hotter than originally anticipated. Being locked in a metal container had to have the same affect as a furnace. Would he be okay?

A few minutes passed before they came upon another officer and a filthy man. The man fidgeted with a hat in his hands while looking at Agent Stone and Brennan. The officer looked at them. "This man here is the one who called in the report, Agent Stone. I haven't heard a peep from that thing since I got here. I'm not sure what you want to do."

"Can we get into it?" he asked, nodding at the large green, rusted container.

"Yes, sir," he replied the officer, smiling. Brennan didn't find the smile appropriate. "We got lucky; this man has the master key to all of these."

"Good, then open the damn doors."

The man fumbled with a ring full of keys before finding the one he wanted. He inserted it into the lock and they all heard the click. Agent Stone pushed the man away and looked over his shoulder at Brennan. Not wanting to just stand around she joined him at the doors. Together they pulled them open. The metal groaned in protest. A cloud passed over the sun. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. As the cloud passed the sun lit the interior of the metal container. Agent Stone yelled at one of the officers to get the paramedics. Brennan made her way to Booth, who was lying on the metal floor on his stomach. She saw the blood on his hands, the filth on his once white shirt. With a shaky hand she reached out to feel for a pulse. Agent Stone was standing behind her, waiting.

At the touch of her fingers Booth's eyes fluttered open. "Bones," he said in a gravely whisper. She wasn't sure if he really recognized her but she didn't care. At least he was still alive. They'd finally found him.


	18. I Feel You

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Eighteen: I Feel You**

They rushed him to the hospital. The paramedics seemed to be very optimistic about his surviving. According to them they couldn't find any wounds, aside from the bleeding, broken skin on his knuckles, most likely from banging at the walls. Brennan had been so overcome with emotion that she couldn't drive herself back to the lab. She took up Agent Stone on his offer to drive her, but instead of taking her back to the lad he took her to the hospital. He knew, deep down, that was where she wanted to be, not at work. Dr. Goodman would have to understand, and if he didn't, well, Brennan found that she just didn't care. She knew that her team supported her in any and every way, if she left, they'd go too.

Brennan wasn't sure but it appeared as though Agent Stone was driving like a madman. She didn't have a siren in her car, that small tidbit didn't deter him from running stop signs and driving well over the speed limit. It made her think of Booth and how he drove the same way at times. Maybe it was something they learned to do, some odd part of their agent training. What would he do if a cop car pulled up behind them? She couldn't keep her curiosity to herself and had to ask,

Agent Stone smiled. "That's the benefit of being in law enforcement. Before leaving I made sure that the officers called in the report of your car, license plate and all, to tell all other cops to leave us be, that we were on important duty. If we should come across an officer they'll probably give us an escort. But I don't think that'll happen, seeing as we're now only two blocks away from the hospital."

He pulled into the parking lot just minutes later. She didn't even wait for him to turn the engine off before she was out the door. It had been four days and she couldn't believe they had finally found him. Part of her was afraid that she would get in the hospital and learn that it had all been a dream, that he wasn't there, that he was still lost somewhere in the world. Agent Stone called after her, yelling something she couldn't hear. She slowed her pace, refusing to stop completely. He finally caught up with her, handing her keys back to her.

"I'll leave you to check on him. I'm going to fetch a ride back to the crime scene, see what the forensic team has found," he told her. She nodded her head in response.

As she got to the nurses' station she wished the Agent Stone had stayed. How was she supposed to get in to see Booth? They only let family into the rooms during situations like this. And she didn't know anything about Booth's ex. Had she come all this way for nothing? Should she lie and say that she was in some way related to him? Would they ask for proof? She stepped in front of the counter, thinking quickly on her feet. The elderly lady behind the counter smiled at her.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Seeley Booth," Brennan replied, ready to lie about her relation to him.

"And you would be?"

"Temperance Brennan. I'm-"

The woman smiled again, only this time it was more a mask to cover the pity she felt for Brennan. "I've actually been waiting for you. Word was left by," she checked her computer, "Mr. Stone. He said to allow you access to Booth. That you were his family. I will notify his doctor that you're here. Just have a seat, please."

Brennan couldn't believe her luck as she walked toward an empty chair in the room full of sick and waiting people. Agent Stone wasn't as bad as Booth had said he was, it surprised her. Maybe Booth had never seen the other side of the agent. Or maybe the disappearance of his colleague had changed him in some way. All Brennan knew was that she couldn't wait to see the expression on Booth's face when he found out that his savior was a man he couldn't stand. Life was ironic that way. She only had to wait a few minutes before the doctor came to find her. Patients who had been waiting longer gave her dirty looks, but she shrugged them off.

"If you will please follow me, Ms. Brennan," the doctor said, giving her a polite smile.

"Actually it's Dr. Brennan," she corrected him, climbing to her feet.

They started down the hallway toward the room where Booth was being kept. "Ah, so you _are _that Temperance Brennan. Your name is a familiar one. You do some amazing work, Dr. Brennan."

She smiled, trying to remember something Booth had told her, something about being nice to other people. "Thank you, but really, I have a great team to help me. Booth is one of them. How is he, by the way?"

He checked his clipboard. "Amazingly well for a man who's been missing for four days. The main issue is dehydration but we're giving him intravenous fluids. He was starved over those four days but that didn't do too much damage, it can easily be fixed. The cuts on his knuckles had signs of a slight infection, so we put him on antibiotics. Those will also help fight his fever. All in all, Booth is a very lucky man."

Relief flooded her body. All of his problems were minor. The paramedics had been right, he would be able to make a full recovery. The doctor stopped in front of a numbered door and informed her that she was welcome to stay until visiting hours ended; which would be in three hours. She thanked him and walked into the room. The beep of machines didn't bother her as much as they had the first time she'd found herself by his bedside. He looked better this time, though he was somewhat dirty and pale. There were dark circles under his eyes, making him look like a raccoon. She pulled up a chair and sat beside him. If not for the rise and fall of his chest, and the comforting beeps of the machines, she would have thought he was dead. He looked so different from the strong, fiery, stubborn agent she knew.

She reached out and took his hand in hers. His eyes fluttered open, turning his head sideway he focused on her. "I thought you were a dream. I thought I had finally died."

"No such luck, bucko," she replied, trying to sound cheery. "You'll be fine. According to the doctor all your problems are minor. You'll probably be out of here in a day or two."

"That's good," he agreed. "I can 't wait to sleep in my own bed. Hell, even the couch is looking comfortable right about now. You know, there's only one thing I really want to know, how did you find me?"

"I didn't," she told him. "Agent Stone found you. He drove me here and left word with the nurses that I was to have contact with you. He's not really as bad as you said."

Booth shook his head. "He's a strange man, that one. I'll have to have a chat with him when I get out of here. I'd really like to thank him."

"Well, you're safe now. You're going to be okay," she preached. "Life is going to be okay."

"Any idea who did this to me?"

She shook her head. "No, but they have a forensic team all over that place. I'm sure they'll find out who did it."

He looked at her, really looked at her. "Bones, go home, you look like hell."

"Look who's talking," she responded.

He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here tomorrow. You said it yourself, I'm safe now. Go home and get some sleep. And I don't want to see you here tomorrow unless it's your lunch hour. At this rate you're going to get fired."

She stood, knowing that what he said was true. And she did feel exhausted. The day had been a tiring one. "Alright, I'll see you at lunch time tomorrow." It came as much a shock to her as it was to him when she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she was gone.


	19. Dangerous Game

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Nineteen: Dangerous Game**

As she drove home she sang along to the tunes on the radio, always making sure to listen to the upbeat songs. The day didn't seem so bad now. Booth was okay, she was okay, the sun was shining, and everything was as it should be. So why couldn't she shake the feeling that something dark was looming on the horizon, something that would shatter her life? Parking in the first free spot she could find she nearly skipped to her apartment. It had been a long time since she had felt this happy, this joy in being alive. Every single day her job showed her the worst that people could do to one another, very rarely did she get to see the good in life. This was one of those rare occasions and she wanted to hold onto it as long as she could. Maybe she'd make a cake or something. It had been a long time since she'd baked anything. Did she even have the right ingredients?

Walking down the hallway she thought that maybe she'd invite Booth over for dinner the first night out of the hospital. They did have some talking to do anyway. Fresh on her mind were the words she wanted to say to him the night he was taken. He'd enjoy the food and jump at the chance to spend time with her. She would finally get out the words that had been taunting her the last four days. Lost in her happy fog she didn't realize right away that her door wasn't locked when she went to open it. It wasn't until she stepped into her disheveled apartment that the warning bells went off. For the umpteenth time she found herself wishing that she had a gun. Sure, she wasn't exactly the best shoot but it would give her some sort of advantage. She took a step back, planning to leave the apartment and call the cops. Instead of stepping back into the open space of the hallway she stepped back in the solid form of a human body.

Jumping forward she whirled around to see who had snuck up behind her. Sean closed the door, trapping her in the apartment with him. He looked troubled, almost like something was keeping him up at night and he finally found a way to get rid of the problem.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" she asked, then quickly lied. "There's a cop downstairs. He'll be up here soon, he's just parking his patrol car."

Sean laughed. "I saw you through the window. You're alone. Don't lie to me. I am so tired of people lying to me."

That's when she noticed that he was holding a gun in his right hand. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with you, but killing me isn't going to be the solution. Please, just put the gun down."

He shook his head. "I can't do that. He was supposed to die, don't you see that? He was supposed to die and leave you in the same pain that I'm in, but your damn friends saved his life."

"What are you talking about?"

"I never should have agreed to be Temira's friend," he rambled. "I loved her and kept those feelings to myself. Look where it got me. I have all this pain and it's eating away at me day and night. I saw you making the same mistake so I had to teach you a lesson."

She realized that all this made sense to him, it was logical to him. To her it was just his way of making others feel his pain. "I hate to disappoint you, Sean, but I love Booth. I know that I love him and that he loves me. Your ploy worked, alright, so please, just put the gun down and let me call for some help."

He looked at her, glaring, his eyes passing through her. "No. I don't care that you love him anymore. It's too late. You should have realized sooner. You shouldn't have made me do this. Now I can't kill him. There are too many people around, so you'll have to do. He can lose you just like I lost Temira."

He pointed the gun at her, and she saw her life flash before her eyes, all the things that had happened up until this point. The door behind him flew up, the wood splintering, the lock breaking. He whirled around to shoot the intruder and the sounds of gunfire echoed throughout the building, chasing away all other sounds. She watched as Sean's body crumpled to the floor, the gun slipping from his grasp. She looked to her doorway, to see who had saved her life. There, with his gun in hand, was Agent Stone. He was breathing heavily and sweat beaded on his forehead.

She smiled at her. "We have got to stop running into each other."

"How…how did you know?" she asked him as the shock began to wear off.

He holstered his gun and stepped into the apartment as two uniformed officers appeared behind him. "Some of the findings at the docks. When I talked with Dr. Goodman he told me about Temira Brend. I had some quick background checks run on Sean and didn't really like what I was reading. When I was told that no one had seen him for a while, I got even more edgy. I knew that Booth was safe, but that left you, unaware and unarmed. The hospital told me I had just missed you. I tried calling your cell phone but you must have it turned off. I think we should just count ourselves lucky that I got here in time."

She nodded. "You know, Booth isn't going to like this one bit."

He gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"He seems to think that you're some badass agent that can't be trusted. And yet, you saved his life and just saved mine. I guess you're not all that bad after all."

Agent Stone chuckled. "Now my secret's out. Promise me that you won't go telling everyone. I do have a reputation to uphold."

"I won't say a word," she promised. "So much for my even plans," she waved a hand at the body lying on floor. It was apparent that Sean had died. "Now what am I going to do?"

'Well, we'll put you up at a hotel for a day or two. Just until I get this guy out of here, get my pictures and have a team clean your carpet. You'll be the first one to know that the crime scene tape is removed."

"You know," she spoke, looking around he trashed apartment, "Booth sure does make life more interesting." Agent Stone laughed.


	20. Changes

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty: Changes**

Brennan ended up spending a week out of her apartment. She was lucky to be able to bypass the whole hotel issue and stay with Angela. She was happy that it had happened, in a sense. If she hadn't been pushed from her apartment she'd probably still be stuck in the rut that had become her life. It was nice coming home from work and knowing that you were going to be alone. Usually the company of books didn't bother her. But then again, she wasn't used to living with a friend. Angela proved to be a very cheerful and yet, very deep person. Some nights they would stay up late and chat about this and that. Angela explained some of the techniques of art and Brennan helped her to better understand certain things about her job.

Booth had been put back on the job too; having only need to stay in the hospital for two days. They hadn't had many encounters since she picked him up and returned him to his apartment. From what she heard he was stuck on desk duty for a short amount of time. His boss didn't want to take any chances with his health. But surely that time was running out and she'd see him again soon. Angela made sure that she avoided the topic of Booth the entire week that Brennan was staying with her. She could see that her friend needed time to get her life back in order.

And that's what Brennan decided to do when she opened her apartment door. The place was still a mess but the carpet had been cleaned and there wasn't the slightest trace of blood. A new plant sat on the kitchen counter, a card hanging from one of its leaves. She removed the white envelope carefully from the leaf and opened it. It simply read, _Welcome home._ It had Agent Stone's signature at the bottom. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and hastily moved the plant to a windowsill where it would get more sun. Putting her hair up in a ponytail she began the tiring task of righting her house. It took her a few hours until everything was back in the place it had been. As much as she enjoyed the change she couldn't help but be happy that she was once again in her own place.

It was even more wonderful to sleep in her own bed, under her own blankets and with her head resting against her own pillow. She was out before her head hit the pillow.

----

The next day started off bright and sunny, a cool breeze reeked havoc on people trying to read newspapers or those who decided to wear hats. Walking into her lab at the Jeffersonian, Brennan almost felt as though she was walking on cloud nine. She had her life back. Dr. Goodman had not reprimanded her for the day she'd gone to the docks with Agent Stone. According to Angela it was because he saw no reason to chastise her, she had helped save a life, and that was a small part of her job.

She waved to Angela and said hello to both Hodgins and Zack before heading for her office. She had to check with her literary agent. It was about time she drop him an email about her latest book idea. It would be about a missing agent, kidnapped so that he would understand a few of the finer points in life. It sounded like a best seller to her. Smiling to herself she opened the door to her office.

"Someone looks to be in a cheery mood," Bones said.

Brennan nearly dropped her keys, she had not been expecting to find him here. In fact, she'd been expecting the room to be empty. "Just enjoying the simple things in life. Like order."

"I take it you moved back home then?" He was seated in a chair across from her desk.

"Last night. It was wonderful to sleep in my own bed," she told him, setting her stuff on her desk before sitting in front of the computer. "Your week of desk duty must be over."

He nodded. "It felt like it was never going to end. Paperwork isn't as thrilling as actually getting your hands on the bad guy." As an after thought he added, "I'm happy to see you again, Bones."

"Life does seem to be slipping back into its normal routine," she responded after a moments thought. "Which leads me to ask you, why are you here? Is there something you need help on? A body, perhaps?"

He looked at her. "Always right to business with you, Bones. There is a body. Someone found the charred remains of human an hour ago. I figured the best person for identifying the body would be you. Shall we?"

She thought about the email that she had wanted to send to her agent and pushed it to the back of her mind. It was more important to help those who couldn't help themselves. Standing from her chair she told him, "I like having things back to the way they were. It got creepy there for a while."

"Sure did," he agreed, meeting her at the corner of her desk. "Actually, Bones, to be honest, I didn't come here because of a body. I came here because I wanted to see you again. I'm afraid that we got interrupted, you know, my being kidnapped and everything. If I remember correctly we were supposed to have dinner that night. There was something you wanted to talk to me about, wasn't there?"

She bit her lip. Leave it up to Booth to have ulterior motives. Now everything really did feel like it had slipped back into place. "Yes, I do recall that. I guess we should fix the problem then. Your place or mine?"

"Mine, mainly because I'm not sure you can cook," joked Booth. "How about tonight? You shouldn't have to work tomorrow. We can enjoy one another's company, get caught up on the last week."

"That's fine with me," she said, stepping around him. "There's a body waiting for us to work over it. The dead need my attention."

"Hey," Booth called after her. She turned to look at him. He smiled, holding his arms out. "There's a body right here that needs your attention."

"Booth," she rolled her eyes, but made sure that she didn't smile until her back was turned.


	21. Going Down in Flames

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-one: Going Down in Flames**

The drive to the crime scene took them to a cemetery in a suburban neighborhood. They didn't talk much on the drive over, both lost in their own thoughts. Last time Brennan had gone along with Booth on case, things hadn't turned out too well. If she looked at the bigger picture, it rarely turned out okay. Maybe Agent Stone was right in telling Booth to leave her at the lab. On the way out she had warned the others that she might need their help and to be waiting for her call. Now she found herself wondering if it would do any good to get them mixed up in the problems that followed her around.

Two cop cars sat outside the cemetery. Only one cop was actually in view. He waved at them, a grim look on his face, as the pulled up beside his car. They were joined by a black coroner's van in the time it took Booth to shut off the engine and both of them climbed out. The cop pointed toward the hill, directing them up there. He didn't say much and Brennan could tell that the sight had been too much for him. He looked young, probably a rookie.

She and Booth walked side-by-side, step for step. "Why is this a Federal case?"

He gave her a look that said she should have known already. "Bones, there is a burnt body in the middle of a cemetery. The better question would have been, what isn't this a Federal case."

"Why would I ask that? It would illogical. Clearly this is already a Federal case, or you wouldn't be here," she told him.

He smiled. "Bones, how I missed you over the last week."

They crested the hill and found themselves right smack in the middle of the crime scene. The officer standing guard over the body looked green and Booth quickly ushered him away before he spoiled any evidence. The man looked relieved that he could leave the black mass behind. Brennan immediately went to work, crouching down over the black, charred bones. Taking a small flashlight from her pocket she let the light give her a closer look, letting her inspect what was left of the body better.

"Caucasian male, maybe late forties, early fifties," she told Booth, who wrote the information down. "The body was burned but not to the point that identifying it should be hard. There's still some flesh and tissue on his lower half. Looks to me like the upper part of the body was the target. The killer probably didn't care how badly the body burned, as long as it was hard to make an ID."

"Poor bastard really pissed someone off to get treated this way, if you ask me," Booth said, giving the burned corpse a disgusted look.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Booth. Maybe this was an accident. Aside from the burning I can't find any other reasons for death. I'll know more when I get it back to the lab and do some tests," she confirmed.

The sick-looking officer that Booth had sent away found his back to them, during her explanation he had stood on the sidelines, quietly watching her touch the body with gloved hands. If he had been feeling better the affect was quickly beginning to ware off. Booth considered him, turning to the guy with his eyebrows raised. Brennan could see that he was annoyed that the officer had returned without the coroner.

"What do you want, officer?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice even.

"I noticed something out of the corner of my eye as I was walking down the hill and I went to see what it was," the guy replied, his voice a bit wobbly. "I think you might want to see it for yourself, sir."

Brennan held back her laugh. She knew that Booth wasn't that big a fan of being called 'sir'. He said it made him feel old. She had tried to explain to him that it was a sign of respect but he would have none of it. Now, turning to her for an answer, she shrugged. What could it bother? Maybe there was something to what the officer had seen, maybe something connected to the body. She followed Booth, who followed after the officer. They descended the hill and took a left at the bottom, traveling further into the cemetery. In one minute they went from being able to see and hear civilization to being in their own isolated world. It gave Brennan the creeps and she found herself walking beside Booth, not behind him. In this part of the cemetery there was no call of wild birds, no squirrels running around, and no bunnies making hast to vanish. It truly was a dead place. The officer stopped, pointing toward a tombstone.

Booth turned to Brennan. "Stay," he said, like she was some sort of dog. He didn't wait around to hear her response.

He walked over to the tombstone. From where she stood she couldn't see what had called to the officer. Mainly because Booth was blocking her view. Turning back to look toward the hill she realized that this small patch of the cemetery was indeed viewable from up there; where the coroner was currently taking care of the remains. Her attention returned to Booth. For a long time he just seemed to stand there, studying whatever it was that had brought them there. A cloud passed over the sun, causing Brennan to shiver as it darkened the cemetery. Looking up she saw that the blue sky had turned an ugly shade of gray. It was going to pour any minute now.

"Booth," she called. "Hurry up, it's going to rain."

Her voice broke through whatever fog had settled over him. He turned his gaze to the sky; the clouds had grown darker, almost black. He grabbed for something on the tombstone, it fell into the grass. Brennan only got a flash of black before the grass hid it from view. Booth bent down to pick up, and finally headed back in her direction. When she looked around she realized that the officer who had shown them the scene had disappeared. Where had he gone? And when had he left?

"Did you see where that officer went?" she asked Booth when he was within hearing distance. The wind began to pick up, going from a nice breeze to a gust.

"No," he shook his head in response. "I had my back turned."

A loud clap of thunder made them both jump. Without saying anything they settled on a mutual agreement to head back to the car. When the got to the cemetery entrance they found that they were the last ones there. The coroner had taken the body to the lab and the cops had gone on about their business. Booth and Brennan barely had time to get in the car before it began to pour. Inside the safety of the car she turned to him.

"What did you find?" she asked.

He gave her a grim look. For the first time she noticed a cloud hanging around him, a storm of anger, confusion, and despair was brewing. He handed her the object he had picked up. Looking at it she finally understood the mood that hovered around him. In her hands she held a small black wallet-like case, flipping it open she wasn't surprised by the flash of a badge. What caught her attention, and held it, was the name and the photo on the ID. It belonged to Agent Stone.


	22. Right Where I Belong

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-two: Right Where I Belong**

The day of the funeral was a cloudy one. There was no rain but it didn't matter, enough tears fell that day. The tests had proved conclusively that the burned remains were indeed those of Agent Stone. When Booth got the news from the lab he'd been left speechless. Who would kill an agent with such hatred? Brennan did her best to hide the mix of emotions that were coursing through her body. It was her job to remain professional in situations like this, but the man had saved her life, how could she just write him off as another body, as another day's worth of work? Much to the surprise of her boss and her co-workers she went to the funeral. Booth wasn't surprised to see her there. It was something they both understood. They knew a side of Agent Stone that others probably never knew existed.

Not many people attended the funeral. Most of them were fellow FBI agents. He hadn't been married, had no kids, and his parents had passed away some time ago. He was a man alone in the world, trying to save lives. Brennan cried, and she didn't care about the show of emotion, the sign of weakness. Instinctively Booth wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close in an attempt to comfort her. No tears came to his eyes. He was more mad than he was sad. They parted ways after the funeral, Brennan returning to the lab and Booth going off to only he knew where.

They didn't see each other for a week. The grief and the realization that life was so fragile kept them apart. Brennan busied herself with her lab work. She had been sent the body of a mummy to authenticate and it took up plenty of her time. Booth was out running around doing whatever is was FBI agents did; most likely he was spending all his time trying to find Stone's killer. Who could blame him? Angela steered clear of the topic, pretending like Booth never existed. She didn't want to hurt her friend; the guys were left clueless to the whole situation.

It was the beginning of another week; exactly two weeks after Stone had been murdered. Brennan was in her office sending emails to her literary agent. They were discussing her next book. There were things the agent wasn't happy about but they were slowly working their way to a compromise. Brennan was just about to shut off her computer when there was a knock on her door. She wasn't expecting anyone; her team was too busy for conversation. Two of them weren't even in the lab at the time.

"It's open," she said, not bothering to get up from behind her desk.

The door opened and in stepped Booth. He looked the way he always did; dressed in a suit, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bones, long time no see. How's life treating you?"

She relaxed when she saw him. "I don't care how life is treating me. I come to work and deal with the bodies of people who got dealt a bad hand. In most cases, there are more questions than there are answers. Nothing has changed, so I guess life is treating me well."

"You haven't been thinking about, well, you know," he said, as he sat across from her.

"No, I haven't," she shook her head. Agent Stone had been the farthest thing from her mind. She planned to keep it that way. "Booth, why are you here? Is there a body you need me to look at? Because two of my team members aren't even in the lab right now, and I have a body waiting for me."

He held up his hands. "I thought that I would check in on you, see how things were going. Apparently I didn't need to do that."

She felt guilty when she saw the look of hurt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Booth. I've been having trouble with my next book and Dr Goodman has been wanting to say something to me but doesn't have the guts. I think he's afraid I'll hit him again. I've been rude."

"It's okay," he said. He let a few minutes of silence pass before speaking again. "I've been so busy looking for Stone's killer. I keep telling myself that he'd probably still be alive if he hadn't taken that vacation. We would have known he was missing."

"You can't live in a world of 'what if', Booth. It'll get you nowhere," Brennan rationalized. "A terrible thing happened and there's no way you can change it."

He smiled. "That's where you are wrong. I can change it. I can catch the bastard that did this to him. That's the reason I'm here, actually."

"Oh?" Brennan found herself curios. What did he need her for? He knew more than she did about catching the bad guys. She knew her science and that was all.

"I've been digging and digging for days now," Booth began to explain. "I've gone through all his paperwork, checking bank records and phone calls. I checked the cases he worked and found zip there. But one little phone number written on a scrap of paper left in his desk draw gave me a lead. He was working on a big drug bust, undercover, in a way. I took the information to my boss, who took it to the head of the FBI. He knew that Stone was involved in this drug case."

"Booth, what does this have to do with anything?" Brennan asked, thinking of all the work that was piling up.

"I'm getting there, hold your horses, Bones," he replied. "Anyway. Turns out that he was keeping tabs on a guy, some British dude that was here in the states. The guy was known to smuggle drugs from the states into England. They just couldn't figure out how he was doing. They searched him and his luggage countless times. My guess is that Stone was about to get the evidence he needed to put the guy behind bars for a very long time. That's why he got killed."

"And let me guess, he burned the body to hide any evidence he left behind?"

"Precisely. I talked things over with my and it looks like I get to take Agent Stone's place is this undercover operation. He wasn't keen to it at first but I convinced him I wouldn't stop until I caught the bastard," said Booth with an angry edge to his voice.

'What does this have to do with me?"

Booth leaned forward. "The guy isn't in the states anymore. He got on a plane two days ago heading for England. He's on the top of the FBI Most Wanted list. I'm going to England, Bones. I don't know how long I'll be there. I could be gone a matter of days, maybe weeks. Who knows, maybe I'll be gone a month or more."

Brennan wasn't sure how to react to the news so she hid all the emotions that were swirling around inside. "Why are you telling me this, Booth?"

"I want you to come with me," he finally said. "The guy is dangerous and he'll probably kill more people while he's back in England. I'm sure the country has their own anthropologists but I prefer to work with you. I know how you work and can trust you."

The words shocked her. He wanted to go to England, with her? If she said yes she would have to leave the lab behind for an unknown amount of time. Would she be able to do that or would Dr Goodman abject to the idea? Spending time alone in England with Booth would be an interesting experience. When was the last time she had taken a vacation? The more she mulled it over, the more she weighed the pros and cons. Finally she decided on an answer.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I can't go. This is where I belong. My duty is to the Jeffersonian. I won't be going to England with you."


	23. It's Not Me

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-three: It's Not Me**

Booth assured her that it was okay, that her decision was something that she had to stick by, that she was allowed to say no. He didn't hate her for it, though it was clear that he was unhappy. He'd been hoping that she would say yes and that they'd go together. Maybe because he hoped to regain the spark that had been growing between them. The spark that had been doused by the murder of Agent Stone. The cold reality of their lives' had set in, and they were both left feeling out of touch with the world. He knew that she worried that something similar would happen to him. He couldn't blame her for that, for at times, he worried about the same thing. He'd take on a new case and wonder if this would be the violent offender to end his life. It had almost happened once. Who's to say it wouldn't happen again? He only had so many get-out-of-jail-free cards in his life, one of which he had already used. Next time he probably wouldn't get so lucky. Next time he could very well die.

Even with this knowledge, with the acceptation of her choice, he left her office feeling depressed. If only she had said yes. He would have bought her the ticket. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time he wondered if maybe he should have asked her to go as a friend, as a potential lover, not as his colleague. Maybe then she would have said yes. But deep down, he knew that it wouldn't have mattered. Brennan's life was about her work, not her potential lovers. He left the lab with the intent to return home to start packing. His plane left in the late afternoon hours of the next day.

He didn't notice Angela watching him. She stood quietly hidden in the shadows, observing the look of mixed emotion on his face. Secretly she too had been hoping that things would return to normal between her boss and her friend. The pain, the reality of life, had cracked the glass exterior's they both stood behind. Watching him leave she felt his pain. She had lost someone she loved. Someone she'd never get the chance to hold again, no matter how hard she wished. It was a pain that stayed with her, that would stay with anyone. With new resolve she headed toward Brennan's office. She was about to knock when the door flew open. Brennan, who had her head down, her eyes locked to the folder in her hands, nearly walked into Angela.

"Angela," Brennan said with surprise. "Are Zack and Hodgins back from that museum yet? I really want to finish up the work on the mummy. There are three other bodies that we have to look at, for the same reason. It would be nice to have a free weekend."

"What do you do on your weekends, Tempy?" she asked, before she could stop herself. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice and she felt instantly guilty about it.

"Do my weekend plans have anything to do with the job at hand?" Brennan bit back. She pushed passed Angela and started walking down the hallway.

"Brennan, I didn't mean that to sound rude," apologize Angela hastily, following after her. The lab was unusually quiet without the guys around and her voice carried.

Brennan stopped and turned to look at her. "I'm not really in the mood for this today, Angela. I have a lot on my mind. Can we just get this work done?"

"No," Angela said sternly, holding firmly to her courage. She had never really confronted her boss this way before. "I just saw Booth walk out of here like a puppy dog who had been kicked. I want to know what's going on. You can share with me, Brennan, that's what friends do, they share things."

"It's called being nosey, Angela," her friend responded. She once again turned around and headed for the dusty mummy that was waiting for her.

Angela ran to catch up with her and settled into step beside her. "There's a difference between being nosey and sharing amongst friends. I want to know what's going on, you've changed so much since Agent Stone died. Even the guys have noticed. Haven't you taken notice of the way that Dr Goodman is avoiding you?"

"I thought he was avoiding me because he wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure how," revealed Brennan, giving Angela a curios look.

She shook her head. "Nope. It's because he doesn't want to step on your toes, so to say. Neither do Zack or Hodgins, that's why they opted to go to the museum for you."

"Are you sure they weren't just doing their jobs? Like we should be?"

Angela grabbed her by the arm, prompting her to stop and turn toward her. "Listen to me, Tempy. You have changed a lot, so has Booth. That's to be expected. But the two of you had something going, where did the spark go? Why did he leave here so upset?"

Brennan looked her friend over, trying to decide if it was worth the trouble to explain the problem to her. She had already made up her mind and she wasn't going to change it. Knowing Angela, the younger woman would try to find every reason possible to get her to agree to fly to England with Booth. She'd probably rave about how it would be very romantic. But Brennan didn't feel like romance. She wasn't sure she wanted to fall in love with someone whose job put them in so much danger. What if they got married and he died just a year later? How would she free herself of the heartache?

She shook her head. "I'll tell you, one two conditions."

"And they would be?"

"One, you are not to breathe a word of this to the guys. Two, I've already made up my mind, so don't go trying to change it," Brennan pointed out.

Angela crossed her heart. "Yes, ma'am. I promise not to say anything or to try and change your mind. However, I can't promise that I won't try to cheer you up."

Brennan relaxed. "He asked me to go to England with him, to help find the guy who killed Stone. He said he trusted only my word and didn't want to work with any other anthropologist. I told him that this lab was where I belonged, not running around some damp country full of old buildings."

Angela actually laughed. "I thought you liked historical stuff."

"Angela-"

"I'm sorry, hun. As promised, I won't try to change your mind," she said, her voice a bit wistful. "But a trip to England, what I wouldn't give to go myself. Think of all the things you could do there. Sure, I've been to France, but England has a charm all its own. Do you think it would be rude if I asked Booth to bring me back a snow globe?"

Brennan rolled her eyes but Angela was happy to note that she had a smile on her face. It was hard not to start in on a lecture of reasons why she should change her mind. The old Brennan probably would have said no, which was easy to see, her life consisted of going over skeletons. There wasn't any guarantee that there would be any work for her in England, and Brennan wasn't Brennan unless she couldn't do something scientific. Angela had watched her during the time they stayed together. Even after work her boss rarely did anything resembling fun. It may have fun to her, but not to any normal person. Who would go home and read science magazines or textbooks after spending an entire day playing with the dead? It wasn't entirely healthy. Angela could only hope that Brennan would realize the mistake she had made in saying no and follow after Booth. It would be like a fairytale.


	24. Let Me Go

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-four: Let Me Go**

People moved around everywhere. Some running to baggage claim, some trying to get to the right gate before their plane left. Others sat in the provided chairs reading books and newspapers, eating snacks, or chatting with the person sitting beside them. Still yet, others cried tears as they wished the ones they loved a safe trip, some smiled with the joy of welcoming home a friend or lover. TVs were switched to various news channels, filling people in on all the happenings of the world. A small restaurant famous for its clam chowder was surrounded by smaller stores and even a few vendor carts. Everyone wanted to make a few extra bucks, even the saxophone player standing near the bathrooms, playing his jazz tunes for anyone who was willing to stop and listen. The airport was a like a world of its own, cut off from rest of the chaotic world.

Booth stood there, watching the people with mild fascination. A group of Asians passed him speaking in their native language, one he didn't even know himself. A woman with a heavy Russian accent helped an elderly Middle Eastern woman pick up her belongings when her baggage fell open. Two children ran around playing a game of some sort, one of them nearly colliding with Booth, their parents too occupied with one another that they didn't even notice. He watched as a young woman ran into the arms of a man dressed in a Military uniform. Everyone had someone.

Except him.

He stood there, alone, his luggage already being loaded on his plane. He couldn't believe that he was leaving for England in a just a half hour and no one had come to say goodbye. It would have been nice to see Parker one last time before he left but it wasn't do-able; his ex's schedule didn't allow for the meeting. She deeply regretted it and promised to bring Parker to greet him at the airport, as long as he called in advance of his return. Something he would be sure to do. He looked around again, wanting to see Brennan. He still couldn't believe that she had said no to him. Sure, it was a lot to ask, but he thought that they had something. That they would get over the nail that had stopped the gears from moving their relationship forward. With an achy heart he looked at the departures on the screen. Less than a half hour until he left.

She had been trying to find him in the sea of people without any luck. There were too many people, including a pair of unruly children. She barely missed a collision with them. She had stepped out of their path and bumped into a man playing a saxophone. He caught her, smiling and making some comment about kids being kids. As a thank you she dropped a five dollar bill in his up turned hat. He returned to playing the song she had interrupted. She was a bout to give up when she spotted Booth. He was crouched down holding a stuffed bunny rabbit, handing it back to the little girl in the stroller that had dropped her. Her mother smiled a thank you at Booth before continuing on. The gesture was a simple one but it spoke volumes about the kind of man he was.

She walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at her. "Bones, what a surprise, what are you doing here? Come to runaway to England with me?"

"No, I came to see you off, like a normal person would do," she replied, not looking him in the eye.

"That's sweet of you, Brennan, but this would have been easier if you hadn't shown up," he told her. Why hold the truth in anymore? He loved her and leaving for England wasn't the high point of his life. He had to leave her behind because she chose to stay behind. Life was a bitch.

She winced at the words he said. They hurt, but what she had to say to him would hurt even more. "Booth, I'm sorry that I've hurt you. You know that my priority is the Jeffersonian. It always has been. There's a very good chance that it always will be."

He checked his watch. "Get to the point, please. My plane is leaving in a matter of minutes."

She chewed her bottom lip before finally getting the words out. "Forget about me, Booth. Just forget about me. Find someone else to fall in love with." There, she had said.

Now it was his turn to wince in pain. "Bones-"

"No, don't call me that anymore," she demanded, hiding her hurt behind anger. "You are going away to another country and there's no way of knowing how long you'll be gone. I can't say that I won't fall in love while you're gone. You shouldn't rely on me. Find someone else, Booth. Someone who is willing to fly around the world with you. Maybe someday you'll get over this and decide that you still want to be friends. I'll be waiting for that day. But for now, just forget about me."

At first it didn't seem as though he was going to react in anyway. He just stood there, staring at her. She couldn't bare the intense gaze of his eyes as she wondered what was running through his mind. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, it that's what you want, Brennan, than so be it." An announcer rattled off the number of a plane and the departure gate. "I've got to go. See you sometime in the future, Brennan."

He turned and left, not bothering to look back, not even once. She watched him go, disappearing into the crowd before she turned and headed for the exit. Her heart felt heavy, her eyes felt moist with tears. Why had she gone and hurt the only man who had ever shown her love? Of all the people in her life she had come to trust him most of all. There was something about him, something that made her feel safe. She'd almost lost him once and here she was, driving him away for good. On a spilt second decision she turned around and ran in the direction he had gone.

"Booth," she called for him. She remembered the gate number the announcer had said his plane was boarding at, but when she got there the last two people were passing their tickets to a young woman. She had missed him. Feeling somewhat numb inside, her head hanging down, she turned and backtracked to the exit. She had messed up. She was always messing up. But how could a mistake this big be fixed?


	25. Be Somebody

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-five: Be Somebody**

For the duration of the flight Booth tried desperately to think of anything other than what Brennan had said to him. Some seeing-off she had given him. His mind was bothered by the way she couldn't, or wouldn't look him in the eye. Was someone else putting her up to this torture? Had the death of Agent Stone pushed her so far away that she no longer wanted to fall in love with someone whose job could kill them any day? Or was she just being herself, running from relationships? He thought about using the airplane phone to call Angela and talk with her. If anyone knew what was bothering Brennan it would be her, but the more he chewed over the idea the less he liked it. The last thing he wanted to do was push Brennan when it was clear that she wanted to be left alone. Even with that decision made he still didn't enjoy the on-flight movie or the meal that he had ordered. He tried to sleep but all his dreams were of her. When the plane finally started to descend he began to feel a touch of hope. He would throw himself completely into finding the fugitive he was tracking. That would not only take his mind of Brennan but it would get him home faster.

He disembarked from the plane, picked up his luggage, and stepped outside into the damp cool air of London. He looked about, watching people scurry to catch taxis or getting rides from people who had come to pick them up. A light drizzle began to fall. A man with a head of gray hair and light blue eyes stepped up to him.

"Special Agent Booth, come with me," the guy said in a clipped British accent. He took Booth by the upper arm and began to direct him toward a waiting car.

Not quite sure of what was going on Booth tore his arm free of the British man's grip and stood his ground. "Who the hell are you and how do you know who I am?"

Startled, it took the other man a few minutes to reply. "I am Wesley Reginald. I work with the SOCA. Your boss in America sent me your file, which included your photograph. We are here to transport you to your hotel. On the way we'll discuss the man that you are here looking for. My guys already have a lead on him."

"What the hell is SOCA?" Booth asked.

"The Serious Organized Crime Agency," Wesley replied. "We are a relatively new agency but we're a lot like your FBI, sir."

"Forgive me," Booth said, "but where I come from, we don't take such things lightly. I want to see some sort of identification. I need to know that you are who you say you are."

Wesley smiled and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He not only showed Booth his badge but he also showed him his driver's license. Booth did the same in return. "Are we good to go now, Agent Booth?"

Booth nodded and climbed into the car. Another man was behind the wheel. Without a word they took off into the streets of London. Booth had little time to take in the sights as Wesley began to pull out files and other paperwork to show him. It appeared as though the man who killed Agent Stone was in fact a London-born native. Both sides of the ocean had been tracking him the best they could to catch him with drugs. How he managed to smuggle them into and out of the two countries was still something they hadn't figured out. The drive to the hotel felt as long as the flight had taken. Jet lag was beginning to set in and Booth felt himself winding down. He couldn't wait to get to the hotel, lay himself down in the bed, and sleep for a few good hours. Work could wait until his battery was recharged.

Putting away the paperwork Wesley looked at the agent. "Something is troubling you, Agent Booth. I can see it in your eyes. Did you leave behind unresolved issues or something?"

"You could say that," Booth replied.

"Ah," Wesley smiled. "A woman, the woman who holds the key to your heart. May I ask why she did not come with you? It would have been a very nice vacation for her, I am sure."

Booth smiled. Had he not thought the same thing himself? "Nah, she doesn't take vacations, not that I've seen anyway. She's an anthropologist who works at the Jeffersonian. We usually work together."

"Does she not feel the same way about you that you feel about her?" asked Wesley, a frown on his face.

"I'm not really sure anymore," replied Booth, honestly. "We had a bit of a spark that was starting to grow into something more. Then Agent Stone was murdered and she pulled away. I'd actually rather not talk about it. My job is to find this bastard so that I can get home and return to work there. I have plans of taking my son to tour the White House when I return. He'll get a kick out that, I hope."

Wesley smiled again. This time when he pulled out his wallet he showed a picture to Booth. It was a picture of his wife and two little girls. The rest of the ride was spent talking about his family. But Booth couldn't get Brennan off his mind. She was all he ever thought about now. Maybe he shouldn't have jumped at the chance to come to London. Maybe he should have let another agent take the job so that he could have stayed behind for Brennan. She needed him and didn't even know it.

They finally pulled up in front of the hotel. Wesley gave him a handful of paperwork and the files that they had discussed. A room had already been booked for him; it was on the top floor. He didn't care. The room was modest, clean, and orderly. He hung the _do not disturb_ sign on the door, throw the folders and assorted paperwork on a desk, placed his luggage on the floor, and fell into the bed. The pillow felt welcoming, as did the mattress. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep but there was one other thing he felt the need to do. Reaching for the phone he followed the instructions for placing a long-distance phone call before dialing Brennan's number. He really wasn't sure what the time difference was so he worried that he might catch her while she was sleeping. The worry washed away as the answering machine picked up. He listened to her voice before hanging up at the beep.


	26. Landing In London

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-six: Landing in London**

She still couldn't believe what she was doing. This wasn't like her at all. Even Angela had been surprised, though happy, about the spontaneous actions that she had taken. Her boss would be mad but she didn't care. She couldn't help thinking that this was in some way a big mistake. People didn't do things like this in real life. They saved this kind of romance for movies or TV. Not the life of some girl who had gone through foster care to become a distant young woman buried deep in her desire to work. She put everything on hold. For what? She had told him to forget about her, to move on. Would he hate her? Should she have taken her own advice and forgotten him? How could she, though, how could she forget his smile, his eyes?

She shook her head as the flight attendant asked her if she would like an extra pillow. The flight was longer than she had been anticipating and she'd already finished the book she'd brought along. Others dozed or read books of their own. She thought about work, how the others would cope without her for a little while. The only one who knew of her leaving was Angela. Part of her felt bad for leaving Angela the one to tell Dr Goodman that she was gone. He would be furious. She'd probably even lose her job. But none of that mattered to her now. Her heart was set on overdrive and she was taking chances. Hodgins would cheer her on and Zack would be temporally confused, until someone explained it all to him. Brennan feared that the young genius was becoming too much like her.

Resting back against her pillow she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was only a matter of minutes before she fell asleep. Her only dream was of the last few hours of her life.

_She returned home from the airport, tears drying on her face. She felt as though someone had taken away her other half, like her heart was missing parts that she hadn't even known existed. Taking the elevator up to her apartment she chewed over the thoughts in her mind. There were choices to be made, that was how life played out. Choices were given and it was up to her to pick the ones she felt best suited her. In this case, the fact that she messed up weighed heavily on her. Walking down the hallway to her door she was hit with the sudden idea of how to fix the problem, the best solution to the whole problem. Stepping inside the quiet place she called home she headed for her bedroom where she pulled a suitcase out of the closet. Looked as though she would be going to England after all. It didn't take long for her to pack, only a few minutes. Her next step was to call Angela. Her friend had been happy to hear that Brennan was finally making her move, if not a bit late, but still, it was enough to cheer Angela up, and even made Brennan feel good about her decision. Angela promised to pass the news on to Dr Goodman and the others. With that she had returned to the airport, purchased a last minute ticket and set off for England._

A gentle shaking from the flight attendant work her up. They would be landing in just a matter of moments. All of sudden Brennan began to doubt her actions. What if Booth didn't want her in England after all? What if, after all that she had said to him, he decided that she wasn't worth the trouble or the time? Would he even be happy to see her? And how was she going to find him? A plan began to form as the plan landed, the night sky clouded over and threatening more rain. Waiting her turn it took ten minutes before she was off the plane and another twenty until she had located her luggage. Pulling out her cell phone she rang Angela.

"Angela, I need you to do me a favor," she said, skipping over the normal greetings.

"Brennan? Are you in England?" her friend sounded distant.

"Yes, look, Angela, I need to find out what hotel Booth is staying in," explained Brennan. "You're the best computer person I know. Is there anyway you can find out?"

"I'm not sure I can find the exact hotel, Brennan, but let me try something," Angela assured. The sound of typing came across the line and it was a few more minutes before Angela finally said anything. "All I can tell you is that he's in London somewhere. You're on your own after that."

Brennan smiled to herself. "Thank you, Angela. I'll remember to bring you a souvenir."

She hung up and headed for the phones that were waiting on the far wall. A phone directory was placed under each phone. One by one she called the hotels in London, asking each person if a Seeley Booth had been registered there. Her story was that she had gotten separated from her husband and lost the address for the hotel, he wasn't answering his cell phone and she wanted desperately to find him. They all felt bad for her and checked the registries. With luck she found him at the fourth place she called. Not having a piece of paper to write on she used the available pen to write it down on her hand. Now she just needed to catch a taxi and off she'd be. As she walked toward the exit she passed a counter that was titled Currency Exchange. She didn't have any British money and would be needing it if she was to take a cab. Another few minutes passed as she exchanged what little money she had for British currency. Hopefully it would be enough to get her to the hotel.

Outside the wind whipped around, causing her to shiver and she caught herself wishing that she had packed a sweater. Five minutes passed before she found a cab. The man behind the wheel eyed her suspiciously. She showed him how much she had and told him where she wanted to go. Unfortunately it wasn't enough to get her to the hotel. She would be two blocks away. Settling back in the seat, she enjoyed the short ride. Once again she found herself wondering if this was a crazy idea. People just didn't do things like this, did they? It had been so long since she'd let love into her life. Maybe there was a whole 'nother world that she wasn't aware of.

The cab drive dropped her off in front of a pub just as the skies began to rain down. The water was cold and soaked her thoroughly. At least the cab driver had the sense to point her in the right direction. Taking off at a fast walk she headed for the hotel. The rain began to fall harder, prompting her to run. Some people shouted at her but she didn't care. Her heart didn't feel so heavy anymore. Outside the hotel, under the awning, she tried to wring out her hair, removing very little water. She probably looked awful, and would most likely leave water spots on the tile floor inside. Holding her breath she entered the hotel. No one really gave her a second look. They probably thought she had just gotten unlucky, truth was, she had. Taking the elevator up to the top floor she found herself wishing she could go home. She was only going to make a fool of herself. He didn't want her here. The brass numbers on the door marked the room he was in, a _Do not disturb_ sign hung in the door.

She knocked anyone. When he didn't answer she knocked harder. There was no way that she'd come this far just to turn back. After a third knock he finally opened the door.


	27. The Real Life

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-seven: The Real Life**

"Why is that bodies seem to follow you around, Bones?" Booth asked as he navigated the unfamiliar roads of the English country-side. A body had been found earlier this morning and Wesley figured Booth would be interested in it. Why he called the agent he didn't say. Maybe he thought the body had something to do with their missing fugitive.

"They don't follow me around," was her reply. She had been grateful for the call to work. It had given her the time to shower and catch an hours worth of sleep. Eventually she would have talk to Booth about why she had flown here. Surely he had already figured it out on his own. Knowing him, he would still want to talk to her about it.

"Are you sure? You show up at my hotel door and an hour or so later I get a call about a skeleton. Seems a bit weird to me," he commented.

"You're drifting again," she remarked.

He jerked the wheel to pull the car back into their lane. "Why do these people have to drive on the wrong side of the road?" he snapped.

Brennan wisely kept her comments, and giggles, to herself. Booth was having a hard enough time driving on the opposite side of the road; he didn't need her to be picking on him. The sun was making an appearance today, hovering near the horizon. Brennan didn't really see the call that England had on people. Then again, she wasn't one for traveling. That was something she did with her family when she was younger. Traveling just brought back painful memories. And yet, here she was, in a car with Booth in England, of all places. She stretched, wishing that there had been more time for sleep. The jet lag was another reason she avoided traveling; unless of course she traveled for the sake of work. Too bad she couldn't convince herself that this was a work related trip, even if she was on her way to see a body. The truth was, she didn't know what this trip was. What was she hoping for?

"Here we are," Booth's voice broke through her foggy thoughts. They pulled off the road onto a dirt track that took them about a hundred yards. Wesley was waiting for Booth when they both climbed out of the car. He looked at Brennan and smiled.

"My, who is this lovely creature?" he asked Booth, nodding in the direction of the anthropologist who was trying to get a look at the skeleton without being overly obvious. She probably wouldn't be allowed to see the body. Surely England had their own anthropologists.

"Wesley Reginald, I'd like you to meet Temperance Brennan," Booth introduced the two. Brennan was only half paying attention to what he said.

"Dr. Brennan," she corrected him, still trying to see the skeleton.

"Doctor of what?" the SOCA agent asked.

"Dr. Brennan is the anthropologist I work with back in the states," explained Booth, giving the British agent a look that told him to keep his mouth shut about the conversation they'd had driving away from the airport. "She decided to take a vacation, see what sort of stuff England had to offer."

Wesley only smiled more but kept silent about Booth's confessions to him only hours ago. "How lucky. Tell me, Agent Booth, is she any good at her job?"

The question actually made Booth laugh. "Are you kidding me? Bones is the best anthropologist back in the states. You couldn't find anyone better at her job."

"Bones?"

Annoyed with curiosity Brennan looked at him. "It's a nickname that Booth insists on using. He thinks that because I work with bones that I should be called Bones. I have yet to come up with a nickname for him that isn't rude in some way or another." She looked back at Booth, a small smile on her lips.

"Ah, you know that you like it when I call you Bones, just admit it finally," came back Booth, with a smile of his own. He was still not sure what to make of the anthropologist's sudden appearance at his door. He wished they had the time to sit down and talk things out. To talk about anything. Had she changed her mind? Why was she really here?

"May I take a look at the skeleton?" Brennan finally asked, her patience running out.

Booth laughed. "That's the girl I know, always about her work."

She shot him a look of concern. Where was the professional attitude of his? Why was he acting weird with her around? Was it because of the fact that she was here? Maybe coming to England had been a bad idea after all. Booth didn't seem to know what to do with her now. She made a mental promise to herself to catch the next flight out as soon as possible. There was no point in staying somewhere she wasn't wanted.

"Go ahead," okayed Wesley. "If you're as good as Agent Booth says you are, I'd be honored to have you look at the skeleton."

He didn't even finish his sentence before she took those last few steps to the body. She crouched down by the body and was instantly hit with a flashback that sent chills down her spine. Once again she saw the charred remains of a body resting between the fading gray tombstones. The ache and frustration of her friend's death came surging back. She put a hand to her head, rocking back on her heels. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder trying to give her comfort. Turning to look she found Booth giving a knowing look. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Something wrong?" Wesley questioned. "She can't be a great anthropologist if a skeleton upsets her so much."

Booth shot him a dirty look. "Excuse her for being human, but last time she checked the remains of a skeleton they turned out to belong to a friend."

Wesley wisely shut up, not wanting to piss off the American agent any further. Brennan did her best to force away the memories of that blackened skeleton. She didn't want to see it. She wanted to concentrate on the here and now. With a shaking hand she reached out to the body. Booth let her go to give her room. He didn't exactly feel right comforting her on the job. He watched as she gave the skeleton a quick glance over.

"Female, probably about eighteen- or nineteen-years-old, Caucasian." She gently rolled the skull to the side. "Looks like there was blunt force trauma. May have been the cause of death."

She fell quite and Booth, who had been watching the expression on her face felt that something was wrong. Maybe she was having another terrible memory. He fought the urge to reach out to her. Instead he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, there is," she replied, leaning closer to the body. "The bones have marks on them, scraping marks, like some used a seriously rouge sponge or something to remove the tissue and muscle. They didn't want to damage the bones but they wanted to be rid of the flesh sooner rather than later."

Intrigued, Wesley had come over to join their little party. "Why would anyone do that?"

Brennan reached out to pick up a bone. "You said the guy you're looking for is a drug smuggler?"

"Yes," both Booth and Wesley said at the same time.

She held up the bone. "Here's how he smuggled between countries." They just looked at her. She sighed and explained to them. "He emptied the bones of most of the marrow and replaced it with his drugs. If you look at all the major bones in the bodies they have odd marks around the ends; that's where he sawed off the ends to get inside and reattached them glue or something. No one checks coffins as they're shipped from country to country. It made getting the drugs in that much easier."

"Ingenious," Wesley whistled. "I never would 'ave thought to look there. You really are amazing in your work, Dr Brennan." He stood. "I'm going to have my team go through every flight our fugitive ever took and see if a coffin was shipped with him. Maybe we'll get some sort of idea as to where we can find him."

Wesley walked off, his phone in hand as he made the call. Booth smiled at Brennan, who put the bone back on the ground and stood up. "Way to go, Bones. You rock the anthropology world on both sides of the ocean."

Brennan didn't quite understand what he met. "What?"


	28. Behind Those Eyes

**Title: ** Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-eight: Behind Those Eyes**

They sat in the quiet hotel while trying to figure out what to do. By all rights they should have jumped onto the first plane and headed back to the states. Their work in England was over and done with, the case having been solved the next morning with the discovery of the fugitive's body. Booth did little to hide the anger that swelled through his body. For an hour he ranted and raved on how unfair it was that the guy died of an overdose instead of paying for the crime he had committed against an FBI agent. Brennan kept her mouth shut but felt the same anger and pain that he did. The death by overdose was in no way justifiable for what he had done to Agent Stone. Brennan had kept it from Booth but she knew that Stone had not been dead when he'd been set on fire. She didn't think it would do any good to tell him that. It would only make the pain more intense, the ache more numbing. She wished she didn't even know the truth. At least the guy wouldn't be killing anyone else.

Booth stood at the rain soaked window, staring out at the people who went about their daily tasks as though nothing had transpired, and as far as they were concerned, nothing had happened. The news reports boasted the death of the fugitive but kept everything else hush-hush. It made sense; why tell a million other drug smugglers that using a skeleton was a great way to transport their pay load? Booth placed his right hand on the window pane, his left hand in his pocket, his head bowed, and a frown across his face. Brennan sat on the bed trying to read the thoughts that were going through his mind. He been put through so much pain and suffering and yet, there he still stood. He hadn't given up, he never let them truly win the battle.

She chewed her bottom lip. There were questions she wanted to ask him, things she wanted answers to but she didn't know how to bring them up without causing unneeded pain. For a while they stayed that way; Booth angry at the world and Brennan mulling over her thoughts. Eventually night began to fall and Brennan got tired of the silence.

"Booth, there's been something I've wanted to talk to you about," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at her, the expression on his face saying that he'd forgotten she was even there. "And?"

"Forgive me if I bring up bad memories," she started off with. She got off the bed and went to her bag. After unzipping a side pocket she pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I wanted to talk about this."

No recognition appeared on his face, nothing erased his unhappy frown. "You want to talk about a folded piece of paper?"

"It's not just any folded piece of paper," she explained. "It was in your pocket when we found you at the docks. Agent Stone gave it to me, said that I should read it." She watched as his frown deepened and she found herself wishing she'd stayed quiet. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of, Booth. You may have written this but you didn't give up, you didn't let the bastard win."

"I should have torn that damn thing to pieces," he muttered. "No one should have read it, not even you."

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry I brought it up," she apologized, quickly tearing the piece of paper in half. After a few more tears she threw it into the trashcan. "All gone. No one else will ever get to read it or even know that it existed."

The entire time he had just stood there, watching her. Now he took a step toward her, his whole demeanor had changed. "You said you wanted to ask me questions. You brought up what was on that paper, I'm not going to just forget about this. What is it that you want, Brennan? Do you want to rub it in my face that you were right about life and all its damn disappointments? I'm not really in the mood to hear it, Brennan, so don't even start."

Now she found herself frowning. "That's not what I was going to talk about, Booth," she kept her voice calm. There really was no point in yelling at him.

"Were you going to carry on about how I wrote that the science geeks are my only friends?"

She didn't understand why he was angry at her, but it was starting to get on her nerves. If his tone didn't change soon she going to walk out the door and never come back; which would be fine and good, since she had to return to the states soon anyway. Hopefully she still had her job at the Jeffersonian.

"No, Booth, I wasn't," she said, her voice actually sounding sad. "I just wanted to talk about the stuff you wrote to me, that's all. But never mind, if it's such a bother, I think I'll just grab my stuff and go." She zipped close the bag that held the few belongings she had brought.

"Wait, Bones," he said. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you. All the shit has hit the fan at once and I'm trying to deal with it. I think I just need to return home and spend some time with Parker. Time that is well overdo."

She gave him a tentative smile. "I understand. Look, I'm going to head to the airport. I think it's time I start making my way home."

"Bones, no, please stay," he stated, stepping closer to her. There was very little distance between them. She could smell the slightest hint of cologne on him and she found the scent enticing. "That stuff that I wrote," he nearly whispered, "it's all true. Every last word of it. As corny as it sounds, Bones, you make me feel alive in ways I never thought I would, or even could. The entire time I was locked away in that infernal place I thought about you, wondering how you were coping with my being gone. But we lost our spark when Stone died. The fire that was building went out between us and I'm not sure we can get it back."

"Neither am I," she found herself whispering.

Booth reached out for her, placing his hands on her cheeks. He drew in close to her, brushing his lips over hers before deepening into a passionate kiss. Their contact brought the spark back, the longer they kissed the more intense the fire became. There was no doubt that they wanted each other still, that they had found the feelings buried deep inside themselves. The kiss ended but the contact remained as Booth wrapped his arms around Brennan and drew her body into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest and listening to his heart beat. Outside the rainy skies began to clear.


	29. Never Will I Break

**Title: **Deja Vu

**Disclaimer: **Language, violence

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Twenty-nine: Never Will I Break**

They'd been back in the states for a day and a half. Brennan walked with purpose into the lab. She still wasn't sure if she had a job or not, there was only one way to find out. She stepped through the doors and stood on the sidelines, watching the others as they went about doing their tasks. No one noticed her, hiding in the shadows. It was nice to see Zack and Hodgins and Angela again. This really was where she belonged. Stepping forward she just about ran into Dr Goodman. He stood before her, hands clasped together, and a smile on his face.

"Dr Goodman, I can explain-"

"No need for you to," he said, cutting her off. "I had a lovely talk with Agent Booth very early this morning. According to him you were able to help bust a big drug smuggling ring. All with the identifying bones? How fascinating it must have been."

Taken by surprise she didn't respond right away. Finally finding her voice she asked, "You aren't mad at me for leaving?"

"Actually, I am a bit pissed about that," he confirmed. "However, what you did over there in England will bring more prestige your way, which brings more prestige to the lab. So all in all, it wasn't a bad thing that you did. Just don't do it again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," she said, stepping around him to join her team. They had all finally noticed her and were watching the conversation, probably waiting for a big argument. When they saw her coming they returned to their tasks as though they had never stopped.

Back in her office she busied herself at the computer. She wanted to get a jump start on her novel. Her agent was excited about the story and eager to see the first few chapters. There weren't any skeletons waiting to be dealt with. She focused her full attention on the story at hand, typing about events that had actually happened, but changing little details. She easily lost herself in the world of the book and hours flew by. A knock sounded at her door, the sound startled her.

"Come in," she called.

Angela opened the door and stepped inside. "You have been hiding in here all day. What's up? Something bad happen in London? He didn't hurt your feelings, did he? I should hit him on the head with my sketch book next time I see him." She took a seat in the chair across from Brennan.

Brennan actually found herself laughing. For the first time in a very long time she was actually happy. "Hold up there, Angela, he didn't do anything wrong. It was all very nice. I've just been in here working on my latest book. I'm sorry; I should have spent some time with you guys. How are Zack and Hodgins?"

"Zack feels a little lonely. You're very important to him, you know," Angela smiled. "That boy genius would be lost without you. As for Hodgins, he asked me out last night."

Brennan's jaw dropped. "He did? Oh, Angela, I hope you two have a good time."

Angela just smiled. "I didn't come here to talk about me; I came here to get the dirt on you and Booth. Tell me what happened, I must know."

Brennan was quick to fill her in on all the happenings in London. How she had surprised Booth at the hotel, half soaked and looking awful. How she had helped solve the biggest drug mystery in a long time. How Booth had kissed her. Angela wanted to hear more about the kiss and kept pushing until Brennan finally gave in. She described it second by second, spark for spark. Angela giggled like a school girl. Brennan felt weird; maybe it was because she was happy. There was lightness to her spirit, a spring in her step. Angela eventually said goodbye, leaving Brennan to continue working on her novel. She spent the rest of the day holed up in her office typing chapter after chapter. She couldn't believe that she had typed ten chapters by the end of the day. Before grabbing her stuff to leave she sent an attachment to her agent. In the morning there would be an email and she would learn if all her work was once again good enough for publication.

Walking out of her office she headed for the others. She found them playing with the computers. They had made a 3D rendering of a very ugly guy. According to Angela the guys were trying to see who could make the ugliest Neanderthal. Brennan rolled her eyes. Boys will be boys, she thought. She told Angela she was on her way out, giving her friend a hug. Then, to their surprise, she hugged Zack and Hodgins. It really was good to be back home. Everything was finally falling into place. Life didn't look so very bleak anymore. On her way out she made sure to wave to Dr Goodman. She would have hugged him too but thought it would embarrass her boss. Once outside she inhaled the night air. An arm wrapped around her waist and she relaxed into the familiar feeling.

"Come on, let's get out of this place," Booth said to her. "I know of this great Italian restaurant."

"Do you remember what happened last time we went to an Italian restaurant?" asked Brennan.

"I promise not to eat any dessert," replied Booth, leading her to his car and unlocking the doors.

"I have a better idea," she said as they both climbed in. "How about we order pizza and stay in?"

Booth smiled. "Sounds good to me. A night with Bones. What could be better?"

**FIN  
**Sequel?


End file.
